Funny how the best plans can go straight to hell when your response to an imaginary disaster situation turns into a real one.

Before I begin to explain how totally unprepared I was for Monday afternoon's events, know that I consider myself to be more prepared than most. A lifelong backpacker, angler and hunter, I plan for most contengencies. As a result, that planning is reflected in the gear I carry on my back or in my pocket. So how did I find myself surfing this forum? I was looking for any tips/tricks I could steal before my 10-day solo trek through Alaska's Denali National Park last year. Since then, I've been a regular lurker here learning how to leverage that wilderness preparation towards my daily urban routine.

I left the farm for college ten years ago and have since moved out of state. Like a majority of the country, I now live in the suburbs and work in the city (a large city at that). I have a 30-minute commute into the office every day (not bad considering, I know). And Monday afternoon, that commute turned into one big lesson for me.

Right before leaving the office, I glanced out the window to see a LifeFlight helicopter taking off from a major highway. Less than a minute later, a second helicopter landed directly onto the highway and I immediately knew this was the end result of another bad accident. The traffic guy on the radio in my vehicle warned that the entire highway was shut down in both directions (during rush hour, mind you) and that commuters in the area were advised to find alternate routes home.

Wow. A real chance to put my "Get Home Now" plan into action. The only problem? Several thousand commuters apparently had the same idea, too.

Within minutes of leaving the office parking lot, I found myself stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic and knew Emergency Route #2 was out of the question. A quick turn-off into a residential area lead me to Emergency Route #3, where I found myself stuck in equally bad gridlock.

Knowing there was no Emergency Route #4, I resigned myself to a long commute home. With all traffic being diverted off the highway, it took well over 45 minutes to travel 1.2 miles. As I crested a small hill, a quick glance into the rear-view mirror showed the line of cars sharing my pain stretched well over 3 miles. About this time is when I decided to take a few notes:

1. Almost every single person I saw was talking on a cell phone. I would have called home, too, if I hadn't accidentally left my phone at home. Besides, I'm sure more than a few signals were dropped due to the number of "honey I'll be home late" calls being made.

2. Tempers started to flair in traffic. More than a few single-finger salutes were extended by others to various drivers who either a) tried to cut in line or b) were tailgating others in a vain attempt to get the line moving. At one point, the guy four cars in front of me actually jumped out and pointed a menacing finger at the teenager behind him. I'm no lip reader but it didn't take much guessing to know what he was screaming.

3. One old truck apparently ran out of gas. Either that or it simply stalled out. Regardless of the reason, two guys were seen pushing their truck off the road into a residential subdivision. No one helped them.

4. Gas stations along the way were overcrowded. Well over 75% of all pumps were in use when I crawled by. Several stations had lines that extended out into the street.

Had this been the immediate aftermath of a major urban disaster (inser your own nightmare scenario here), there is no question that hundreds if not thousands on this crowded road alone would have been in major trouble. And that doesn't even begin to address the millions of others in the four-county region.

Yeah, I had a car kit. While sitting in traffic watching my already-low fuel gage drop even lower (so much for always keeping the tank half full), I pulled my kit out to take inventory and pass the time.

The Powerbars? Melted in the 100+ degree heat of the vehicle that's associated with a southern summer. The first aid kit? Woefully indadequate to handle anything larger than a blister or bee sting. The water? Hot but drinkable. Maps of the area? Large regional maps that don't show the smaller side streets. The comfortable shoes/boots to hike home in if need be? In the closet. The only form of personal protection to carry on that trek home? A tire iron that looked nothing like the firearms in the gun safe at home. In other words, I had more than the guy sitting behind me in traffic picking his nose oblivious to the situation (or its futuristic implications), but that's really not saying much.

Three hours later, I pulled up to the house. After explaining the situation to an understanding wife (who laughed when she heard my cellphone ring in the bedroom after she tried to call me), I immediately began to rethink my urban approach to survival.

The ironic part of the story? I have successfully (and quite happily) lived out of a backpack for well over 2 weeks at a time, but stick me in my vehicle for a three-hour drive home immediately following a major (or even minor) disaster and my comfort level drops exponentially.

The moral part of my story? Spend less time reading this forum and more time applying what you learn from it. It may very well make your disaster commute easier than mine.

Pull off and drink until it goes away.

You know, it's funny to hear you describe the tension of a broken down commute back home. Here in Baghdad everyone drives like a madman, but when there are traffic snarls, you don't see people losing their cool here. I guess that is because no one wants to:

A - get blown up by an insurgent car bomber on the lookout for a suitable target. Flipping off someone who is ready to blow themselves up to kill another American is not advisable.

B - get shot by a soldier who somehow mistook your rig for a car bomber and put a half dozen 50 cal rounds through your engine block and windshield. After 20 hours on patrol, these guys don't see so well anyways, and they have no patience left for insults.

C - get strafed by a security helicopter who was radioed by one of their ground crew that your car was posing a threat.
These guys are even more paranoid than our Army patrols.

D - get kicked out of Iraq for pissing off the Seargent Major.
In the IZ, the Seargent Major is God. Flip him off and you may end up checking cars for bombs in Fallujah. Trust me, this is not a good thing.

How about having to pack an additional 30 lbs of body armor with you everywhere you go along with that BOB? I just love hearing people back home complain about having to hod 10 lbs of survival gear around with them. There is no good excuse.

I'm not quite sure what the line "I love hearing people back home complain about having to hod 10 lbs of survival gear around with them" meant, but I hope you aren't throwing stones in my direction. Read my post again and you'll see I'm not complaining at all; it's just a recounting of the events (and subsequent mistakes) I experienced with the hope that others would plan/prepare better than me. That's it. Nothing more. So don't imply there was.

Thank you for your service!

Freedom is not free; the cost is patriot's blood.

Good post!

The summer heat in Phoenix puts me in a similar situation. I leave my CamelBack PSK at home because the heat will ruin the contents. The rest of the year I keep it in my car. I do have some pocket PSK items.

I keep water, tools, jumper cables, a first-aid kit, and a loaded G27 in my SUV. I have first-aid, fire, shelter, water, compass, and signaling gear. I had some snack bars but the heat got to them. The heat also dries out the band-aids and first-aid items.

Perhaps this is what is meant by "an armed society is a polite society." <img src="/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" /> Thanks, ben.

In all seriousness, I think Ben hit on something. We act like our 9-5s are life-and-death. For some of us, like Pete, it can be, but for most of us, we are chasing paper in our nice, safe, well protected lives that are full of people who don't want to kill you. If you have to stay late because traffic sucked in the morning, stay late, move paper from pile a to pile b. Or stay late, move paper from pile a to pile b, email your boss explaining that you put in some flex time and that you will be bailing early tommorrow, and miss TWO rush hours, rather than suffer in one. For most of us, I bet our daily stress isn't the job, but the commute. If I'm going to have a heart attack some day, I want it to be at my desk, not behind the wheel.

I have no problem being late to work and missing a meeting (usually about the meeting next week, to discuss the meeting we had a month ago, in reference to next year's strategic vision) and being there in a good mood, rather than being being late and being angry and tired becuase of a traffic jam. While it wouldn't be advisable for Benjammin, one of the most important things in my edc is what ever book I'm reading. It goes into the bag in the morning, along with fresh water bottles and alongside the most recent catalogs of wilderness and survival toys to drool over,then it come out at night, and if I need to pull into a stripmall parking lot and read while the traffic thins, big deal. I also keep a travel alarm clock in my car.

I also have had a lot of pretty mellow bosses.

Thanks for the reality check, a lot of folks here need it from time to time, take care, and get home safe.

Troy

P.S. Thanks much for a job well done, you guys (and gals) don't get told that enough.

Vernon Law once said: "Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward."

I would love to be able to know every turn on every side street off all the highways where I live, so I could get off at any exit and somehow find my way back home. Funny though, I'm more suited to navigating forested trails. And I wonder how plausible that solution is in a real situation.

No no, not at all, we don't throw stones here for fear someone will throw lead back (heh heh). No, I am referring more to folks back at home who complain about toting around the daily survival packs where I used to work. We were required to have a field bag because of our remote work environments, and they would complain that the bags weigh too much. If they only knew.