Peeing in Coke bottles (Or, how to survive a highway snowstorm)

Getting stuck in a blizzard, on a highway, in the dark, with a child - that was one of my parenting nightmares. How do you stay warm? How do you keep the child feeling safe - and entertained? What if you have to pee?

Well, thanks to the massive storm that hit the East Coast on Friday, now I know: You turn on the car’s heat every half an hour and pull out layers from the suitcase. You try not to cry. You reenact key moments from favorite PBS Kids shows. You give your 3-year-old son a crash course in the art of peeing in a Coke bottle.

Granted, after about five hours of sitting in West Virginia on a very dark, very un-plowed Interstate 64, we were able to finally make it through the graveyard of stuck trucks and abandoned cars to a hotel. Our experience was nothing compared to the thousands of people stuck on Virginia roads all night.

Still, five hours was as close as I’ll ever want to be to calling my Subaru home.

We drive to Virginia at least one a year to visit family on both sides. Our trip south usually provides a warm winter respite from our frigid Chicago home. We couldn't remember the last time it snowed more than a few inches in Virginia.

So, as experienced travelers and former Virginians, we thought we could beat this looming storm by leaving Chicago at 4:30 a.m. Friday. My husband, son and I made great time, and were in West Virginia by early afternoon.

But the storm came early. By the time we were deep in the mountains, the snow was thick as confectioner’s sugar. Within an hour, my husband was driving through a white-out. Thirty miles from the nearest available hotel, traffic stopped.

My husband stepped out to chat with another driver, came back and announced: “Well, I’m sorry, but there’s a good chance we’re sleeping in here tonight.” (Tip #1: Never say that to your very tired, very afraid partner.)

I burst into tears (Tip #2: Save the tears - you’ll need them by hour four) and my sweet boy offered hugs of consolation. As the snow covered our windows and other cars turned off their headlights to save battery time, I grew claustrophobic in the dark. And, I had to pee.

I went out to squat in front of our car (all sense of decorum gone), and saw a truck driver get out of his cab. I walked up to find he was talking to a state trooper, who was also stuck in the traffic. He told us police were working to move a tractor-trailer that had jackknifed across the road. It should be gone in a half an hour, he assured me.

Actually, it took more like two and a half hours before we could move, but that was enough information to keep me sane. I spread the word to other cars, getting hotel tips from locals in one car and commiserating with another car full of Wisconsinites. We were all in this together, and I felt much less alone by the time I climbed back into our dark little cave.

Our son may have been worried, but he didn’t show it. He munched on Goldfish crackers, sung all the words he knew from “Peter Pan,” and acted out scenes from “Dinosaur Train.” (Anyone remember the episode when Laura the Giganotosuarus saves the train from hitting a fallen log? That remembrance kept him entertained for a good 20 minutes).

Thankfully, our little guy still uses diapers at night, so we were able to dress him in one to poop. Unfortunately, we failed to bring any wipes. (That’s Tip #3).

Finally, police let people with all-wheel drive push ahead. About ten miles later, traffic stopped again. This time, I read books by the light of other headlights. We ate peanut butter and bagels and tried not to lose hope. 

After five hours, we pulled off to the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen: the Hampton Inn in Lewisburg, WVa. The lobby was packed with families, truck drivers, and highway crew members. The front desk staff answered phones constantly, apologizing that the hotel was full, and sending stranded travelers to a shelter at a nearby church. 

We counted our blessings that night, the three of us tucked inside a warm bed. We were lucky to have called ahead, reserving a room hours before people flocked to find shelter for the night. We were fortunate to have had a sturdy car. Thankful the nearby Wal-Mart was still open and full of frozen dinners. 

And then we met our hotel neighbor, Regina. The storm forced her to pull off halfway between her house and the University of Virginia hospital, where her husband had just been placed on life support. She’d left without a map, so we gave her our spare. She was too weak to shovel out her car, so we did it for her. 

Our journey ended happily; after two nights in a hotel, we made it safely to my parent’s home outside of Roanoke, Va. Regina’s journey, I imagine, is far from over.

This is an original Chicago Moms Blog post.