Harrowing Commuter Tale Wins $50 Gas Card

PotomacLocal.com congratulates Barbara Dorver of Woodbridge for winning a $50 gas card for submitting her commuter tale to Slug Tales – the weekly online column that’s focused on your commute in Northern Virginia.

Read below for Barbara’s harrowing account of being stuck in traffic on “The Day the Springfield Interchange Iced Over.”

During Ice Storm, Bathrooms on I-395 Hard to Find

 If you are a native of the Northern Virginia area, I am sure you have a traffic nightmare horror story. Nothing in this area is gauged by sheer mileage, it gauged by a complicated equation based on mileage, weather conditions, time of day, direction traveled and percentage of roadwork being done on that particular day.

My horror story comes from the fateful evening of February 12, 2008 or as most of you natives know it as “The Day the Springfield Interchange Iced Over.” Oh yes, for most of us it was a glorious commute home of no less than a ridiculous amount hours. For me, it was six hours in the car with two slugs I picked up from the Pentagon–who just happened to be Officers in the Army. First there was the Colonel, a stern man who took the front seat and stared straight ahead for most of the trip. The Lieutenant Colonel took the backseat.

The first hour stuck in the dead stopped traffic was not so bad. Some small talk ensued as we sat between the concrete barricades on the HOV lanes on 395. Into about the third hour, we realized we hadn’t moved at all. This caused my bladder (and myself) to come to terms with the fact we were all going to have to pee at some point.

The Lieutenant Colonel was first to admit he needed to utilize the facilities (which at this point was an open door to the car facing the concrete barrier. Easy enough for him. In the fourth hour I realized I couldn’t hold it anymore. Being female, it was a more complicated process. I had to kindly ask both gentlemen to exit my car, stand on the opposite side of the vehicle while I opened both doors and relieved my bladder…and peed all over the back of my pants.

The next two hours were complete akward silence in my car, which now reeked of urine-and embarrassment.

I have never picked up slugs again as I envision they told all their slug friends of my misfortune. I was officially labeled “The girl who peed herself” and self exiled from the slug world. That, my friends, is a risk you take everyday as a resident of the NOVA area.