The Vortex

As I clutched the wobbly metal safety bar, frozen with terror, paralyzed as 10 lanes of freeway traffic roared just 20 feel below, I realized I had a problem.

The day had started out pretty well.  The other vendors came and picked us up about 10:30.  We'd gone to Austin, stopping for lunch on the way.  They even bought us lunch.  Very nice.  We all had a nice time talking.

Since they're in vending, they have an SUV and I could stuff Ron's wheelchair in the back.  He walked in and out of the restaurant, but the rest of the weekend he stayed in the wheelchair.

We got to Austin, stuck in traffic for a while, and finally made it to the hotel.  It was along I-35, a very wide Interstate.  I believe it goes all the way to Michigan or something.  It's about 5 lanes, each way.  The hotel was on the corner of the freeway, with a surface road crossing the freeway.

I'd looked at it online, it had a nice looking sidewalk and wasn't far from a store.  I had planned to walk a half mile to the store, buy some supplies, and come back.  Independent, that's my name.

So, Ron and I checked in.  He laid down for a while.  I decided to go to the store.

That's when I got my humility lesson.  I have a couple of phobias.  I have a fear of heights.  I have a fear of aggressive dogs, and I have a fear of heavy traffic.  The last one came from Ron's accident.  However, it has been so well managed for the last several years, I figured I wouldn't have a problem.  I didn't count on heavy traffic AND heights at the same time, coupled with weak, wobbly, guardrail only 4 feet above the sidewalk.

It would have been a great place to commit suicide.  However, that was not my goal.

I am stubborn, though.  I told myself to butch up, sent up a quick prayer, and began striding across the overpass (it has a sidewalk area for pedestrians).   I made it about a third of the way, swamped with paralyzing fear.  I desperately wanted to turn back, but I didn't.

"I am independent.  I don't need any help to go to the store.  I need to do this on my own.  I'm tired of asking others for help.  I can take one little walk on my own."  I forced myself onward, my gut sinking and my head whirling as the traffic roared underneath my feet.  I felt like a giant vortex poised on the edge of the guardrail, trying to suck me over the edge, with tremendous force.

And I kept going, actually leaning inward, towards the traffic.  Then I got across the road and turned, encountering yet another steep drop off right next to the sidewalk, this time with no guard rail at all.  I could feel the sucking again.  I noticed the horrifying hardness of the concrete and the inevitable serious damage if I slipped.  I felt violently nauseous.

I made it about 5 feet.  The vortex was even more powerful with no guardrail.  I went back to the cross street.  Maybe if I hung a left, (hotel to the right) I could approach the store from some sort of backdoor vector.

I went about a mile, saw several nice little creeks, and a couple of apartment complexes.  This was not going to work.  

Now, I had to get back to the hotel.  Another pep talk, a desperate wish for a cab, probability of calling a cab to get me across the overpass - zero.  I'd have paid a good $20 but I know cabs only go to addressees.

Now I realize I could have called a cab and stood in front of the apartment building, pretending to live there and going to the hotel that way.  It didn't occur to me, my poor brain was locked with fear.

I had.  To get.  Across.  The.  Street.  Only one way to do it, straight across.  I ran.

I froze up about a third of the way, literally staggering to a halt as I nearly vomited with fear.  The vortex was hungry.  I leaned forward, fighting a desperate desire to cry, scream, and vomit all at the same time.

I did a lot of blubbering at God, and realized my pride had gotten me stuck.  If I had asked the other vendor, she would have been happy to give me a ride.  She would have enjoyed shopping, herself.  We could have had a little little bonding thing.  But, no, I was pride and didn't want to ask for help.

I swallowed a huge mouthful of saliva.  I took one step.  Another.  I swayed with fear.  Begging God for help.

"Grab the Handrail".  With a lunge, I went for the handrail, clutching it tightly as it wobbled in my hand (they really need to fix that top handrail).  I literally dragged myself along, leaning forward, grabbing the rail, taking a step, dragging my poor frozen feet, grab, pull, drag, repeat.  I got metal splinters in my hands, from grabbing it so hard.  My hands, when I finished, were covered in grease.

To make things even more exciting, the handrail was literally broken in 5 places.  I kept dragging myself along, one foot, two, ROAR, VORTEX!  QUEASY!  SCARED!  Drag, pull, step.  Finally, I was across.

I literally ran back to the hotel like a demon was chasing me.  My room key didn't work.  I almost cried.  I went to the front desk and the clerk asked if I was OK.

"I just had a massive panic attack, trying to walk to Walmart, on top of the freeway."  He was very sympathetic.  I got in the room and washed my hands, sitting down and eating a small package of cookies.  Oh, I felt dreadful.

I told Ron what had happened and he was sympathetic.

Then I went and got a couple of diet cokes out of the vending machine.