Chapter 25: Grid Lock

You have got to be fucking kidding me. About thirty miles outside of Mount Pleasant, we slow to a snail's pace. It takes two hours to go another seven miles. Five hours later, total gridlock.

Somewhere between Monk's Corner and Orangeburg, I'm stuck on a desolate stretch of highway with a million other people trying to escape the storm. Unfortunately, the roads weren't designed to handle this kind of volume, and the Governor was too stupid to allow evacuees to drive on the opposite side of the highway coming out of the coastal towns.

People have run out of gas, which has caused even bigger problems as they abandon their cars on the road. They're out of their cars talking to other travelers around them, throwing footballs, playing Frisbee and hacky sack; the Charleston hippies are out in full force.

The rain has let up, and passengers sit on the hoods of their cars having picnics and sharing food with strangers. It's like they're out for a Sunday drive and not trying to avoid the