This weekend my boyfriend, Keith, and I were planning on spending the entirety of the weekend in Denver. It was his birthday on Friday, I requested the day off, I bought tickets for his favorite band, the Drive-By Truckers for Sunday night.
From the warmer weather that we have had lately, I obviously forgot that if it snows, you have to change plans. Maybe I was in denial, or delirious. Friday rolls around and along with that is the notice that I-80 is closed.
If there were no money invested in this trip, I would have happily stayed for the weekend. Unfortunately, I already bought the expensive, non-refundable tickets to Keith’s favorite band... it was his birthday present. So there was no missing this concert.
After a nail-biting excursion on Highway 230, we had an eventful weekend. Jam packed with hiking, good food and friends.
After the concert I had no regrets. Yes, we got out of the concert at 10 p.m., I had work in the morning—but it was manageable. Until we passed the “Welcome to Wyoming” sign on Highway 287 from Fort Collins to Laramie.
The snow starting falling. Those occasional flurries transitioned in and out of visible and too visible. The frigid flakes started to stick, making me tense up in dread as we still had at least two hours of driving.
So after driving 30 miles per hour on 287 for 40 miles, it was 1:30 a.m. and we were in Laramie. I don’t like night driving in the slightest, so Keith took one for the team. But he looked dazed—that kind of dazed when you have been switching from high beams to low beams trying to determine which one is actually more helpful with large flakes flying toward the vehicle.
It was time to stop. Wyoming weather won this round. We found a Travelodge where the guy either felt bad for us, or was scared of our zombie looking gazes, and immediately gave us a good rate. He mentioned that continental breakfast would be served from 5:30 a.m. to 9 a.m. “if we would be awake by then.” I started to laugh, then cried a little inside.
After three solid hours of sleep, we were ready to get to work and get on with the day. We left Laramie around 7:20 a.m., bound for Saratoga. We figured I-80 would be in okay condition. I mean we gave it a night for things to die down, so how bad could it be?
While sitting in the passenger seat I couldn’t keep my eyes off the road. I was being nowhere near helpful, continuously shrieking to slow down although we maintained a solid 30 miles per hour throughout the trek. I can admit my flaws, one being a horribly annoying backseat driver in inclement weather.
Trucks were flying past us on the declines in slope and we would pass them on the inclines. Along the ice rink that we like to call I-80, we couldn’t see 20 feet in front of us.
Just as we were about to call it quits and stop at one of the desolated exits, the clouds dissipated into clear skies with wind turbines in sight. It was the light at the end of the tunnel.
As we approached our exit, I was surprised to see the blue and red flashing in the distance with the gate to the interstate closing. It wasn’t that bad in this region.
Coming into work Monday morning at 9:30 a.m., with three hours of sleep and already two hours on the road. I wasn’t a very happy camper—that wasn’t part of my plan, I don’t like being late.
However, my perspective completely changed as I gazed at the hazardous chemical explosion-crash along I-80. This occurred at 8 a.m. Monday morning, 20 miles west on I-80 out of Laramie.
We just missed this massive accident.
So have I learned anything from this experience? Never leave Saratoga for any reason in the winter. Cancel all plans if there is snow.
Of course I am joking ... sort of.
No actually, I learned that attending concerts four hours away on a Sunday night is not a good idea. That’s the moral to the story.
Disclaimer: I don’t like writing about myself in columns; but I walked into the office Monday at 9:30 a.m., still anxiety stricken from the drive, and decided it was acceptable this time.
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