March 18, 2020
Run! Run For Your Lives!!!!: Utah Says GTFO
Remember when I wrote that The Walking Dead is a favorite show of mine? It is, so much, and we are living it in real time in the real world, today. I’ll explain, but for context know this: TWD has a habit of creating characters that you fall in love with, and after coaxing you into believing they are so integral to the show that no harm could ever befall them, proceeds to kill them off in the most violent, tragic, and haunting deaths imaginable. Herschel, Andrea, Glenn, Sasha and Sophia (Oh god, poor Sophia. I leaped off the couch and shouted "NO!!!" at the TV on that episode) ... each character’s death left you gobsmacked for days afterward.
Today, Margaret and I were dancing right on the razor’s edge of being one of those beloved characters (and I think we can all agree that "beloved" severely understates our status in the cycling community, right?) getting killed off the series. Today was the day we sprinted away in a panic from the zombie horde.
For this entire trip, we had gleefully felt we were running just far enough ahead of the undead (AKA Covid-19). Untouched by the school closings, the restaurant closings, the locked public restrooms, the toilet paper shortages, and the ever growing lists of limitations, stipulations, and prohibitions that floated out there in the world but never seemed to impede our happy plans.
To be sure, there had been some signs that we were living on the brink of disaster. Yesterday hastily printed placards had been placed on every other table in the motel breakfast room prohibiting their use to guarantee appropriate social distancing. Also, this morning the same breakfast area was a ghost town when we arrived at 9:00 AM. The lack of lodgers eating was explained by a note saying that, basically, the Jig Was Up.
We learned that state health authority in charge of SE Utah had declared late the day before that no one could stay in motels, hotels, B&B’s or other lodging unless they already lived in one of the affected counties or had immediate family living there. All current and future reservations were cancelled and non-qualifying lodgers had to get the hell out of town. With that, we suddenly realized the undead horde was shuffling directly our way, intent on disemboweling and/or dismembering our vacation.
Knowing how to take a subtle hint, we quickly packed and hit the road before men in white Haz-Mat suits took us into custody. About an hour outside of Moab, listening to Utah Public Radio we learned that an earthquake had hit northern Utah and caused some damage, sending the populace into a higher level of justifiable anxiety. Indeed, the world was truly coming to an end (or at least Utah seemed to be) and we goosed the Element up 80 and though Horace Greeley urged “Go west young man,” we channeled the 70’s rock band Head East and gunned it toward Wisconsin.
Not all the news was bad though. I had fears that Covid-19 bans would prevent me from being able to renew my daily prescription of life sustaining medication, but I was relieved to find that was not the case, as evidenced below.
Heading down the eastern slope of the Rockies, near Denver, we were feeling that we had given the Covid-19 zombies the slip, and exchanged high fives. As I drove, and Margaret knitted, I gradually took notice of the many electronic signs on the Interstate flashing information to drivers. “Hmmmm,” I thought, “What are those saying?
Severe Weather - Blizzard Warning, Wed. - Friday is what they were saying.
“!*&$!?#@“ is what I said.
Margaret fired up the cell phone and on the National Weather Service page we found this:
We were pretty much driving through the areas with the intense, beautiful colors and I was pretty sure that on a weather map, much like on a venomous lizard or snake, beautiful colors indicate danger. Sure enough there were blizzard warnings with much snow, high winds, and assorted other driving hazards forecast but it looked like we could outrun it all if we got near Kearney, Nebraska.
I am happy to report we did just that with an 11 hour, high speed drive. We’ll see plenty of rain tomorrow but no snow. We will not join the ranks of the beloved and deceased characters that litter the 10 season path of The Walking Dead. Rest easy fans. No eternal zombie state for us. Just a lifetime without toilet paper.
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