I want to start by saying,

“I AM TIRED OF SNOW”

Just as my body was acclimating to the nice, warm March spring, I heard the absolute worst news ever. Winter is coming… again… already. I stared in shock at the radar image on the news. Just over my home was this deep red blotch that simply read, “10-15 Inches.” After a moment, I slapped myself across the face. The whimpering sound was making it too hard to think. I had just over 24 hours to come up with a plan. That was plenty of time.

In the end, it only took me a couple of seconds to decide. I was getting the hell out of dodge.

I went ahead and finished my Friday as planned. I went out and played D&D with my friends. It had been six weeks and since one of us is getting married soon, it might be a while again. I could not miss the chance. I got home from the game at roughly 1:30 in the morning and checked the weather again. It seemed that I would have until roughly 9:00 the next night before death snow round three fell. Content with my prep time, I went to sleep.

This morning, and by morning I mean afternoon, I awoke and put my plan into action. So far, everything was exactly as predicted. The rain was moving in, but the snow was still several hours off. I drove out of my gravel-laden neighborhood, got on I49 and started driving south. I had no destination in mind, but I knew that if I went far enough south, I’d be safe. It doesn’t snow in Mexico, right?

My first stop was two or so hours later in Neosho, MO. I hadn’t gotten far enough south to be safe yet, but I needed supplies and potty facilities. I decided that this little adventure would be the perfect get away to get some writing done, and bought a couple of notebooks as well as other essentials like Mt Dew. I don’t know why it never occured to me, but the only clothes I have with me are what I’m wearing and my back up clothes for events. I guess I technically have a set of garb, too, but that will be the “emergency rations” of clothing for now. I did not buy new clothes at the Neosho Wal-mart, either. I probably should have, but, I’m a rugged adventurer now. That’s not how we roll.

Road Observation #1: The Neosho Wal-mart smells like my Dad’s parents house used to smell. It brought back all kinds of memories and I considered going in search of the wood burning stove. I have no idea how their Wal-Mart smells like wood smoke, but it does.

I got back in the car and back on I49 South. Before much longer I was crossing the border into Arkansas and thinking to myself, “Arkansas smells like burning plastic.” I made a mental note to point out that traveling seemed to bring out the hidden power of my sniffer. This is not the last time smells will come up in this story. I decided to take a scenic loop, and stopped at a High School parking lot to check my messages.

The RoomLord had decided to let me know that the roads in KC were already getting bad. Clearly, I had made the right decision by fleeing. The fools should have followed suit! Smugly, I informed him that I was already in Arkansas and that I would be sure to be back in time to visit his funeral after the death snow claimed him. I would mourn, but I would also feel a sense of devastating pride in myself for making the right decision.

Road Observation #2: Speaking of the smell of Wal-Mart; Bentonville, AR smells like sulpher and hate. I can now understand why people think Wal-Mart is the devil. Obviously the corporate headquarters is located in the stinkiest part of hell.

Back on the road, I just kept following the interstate until I was about to pass into Oklahoma. I realized that at some point my precious interstate had turned WEST! West is not a good direction, that is going TOWARDS THE STORM! I turned off onto Arkansas State Highway 22, headed south and just kept going. I saw a sign that told me I was headed towards Paris, and I had this vague memory of Paris, AR from sometime when I was freakishly young. I figured it was a good sign.

A couple more hours down the road, and once again troubled by a bladder pressure that would have crippled a mortal human, I made it into Paris. I stopped at a grocery store and stocked up on supplies again. It was starting to get dark, and I didn’t see any hotels, so I pulled up the old GPS and decided to head towards Little Rock. The damn GPS took me BACK TO THE STUPID INTERSTATE, but at least this time I was headed east. A little ways down the road, I spotted a Super 8 and pulled in.

They were full.

18 miles later, I pulled into a little town filled with hotels.

ALL FULL.

This is when I remembered why college sports need to go away. All of the hotels were full of stupid ass college kids, their families, their friends, their friend’s families, and their friend’s family’s friends. I was still 50 miles out of Little Rock and these bastards had already filled the hotels. Fortunately for me, I was also sitting on US65 highway. That’s the highway that leads back to Springfield.

I decided I’d rather spend a few days in Springfield with 4 or so inches of snow than hunt down every hotel in Arkansas looking for one empty room.

Four hours later, here I am. I didn’t escape the death snow. I just waisted 12 hours of my life driving around Arkansas. I only have one change of clothes, half a bag of Fritos, and 4 Mt Dews left from my 6 pack.

At least this hotel room has a big ass lazy boy and a giant bed. I’m going to be living in it for a while.

Tags: Scintilla Project, Snow, Travel