unexpected countdown

5:15 p.m. : This week Shabbat started with an unexpected adventure I really could have done without.
I had plans to spend Shabbat in the country. I didn’t get the directions until a few minutes before I took the road but I assumed it would take about 45 min to an hour to get there. I knew Shabbat started around 7:00/7:15 and I figured leaving at 5:15 would give me sufficient time to arrive. I knew I was in a bit of a rush, but I never expected that I might not make it. Those things just don’t happen – at least not outside of Hannoch Teller books. I took the road, not anticipating the intensity of the Friday afternoon, peak-hour traffic congestion I found myself trapped in.

6:04 p.m.: Inching along the traffic, by 6:04 I was just getting on the bridge – the bridge that's barely 10 miles from my house. I was starting to get worried. I told myself I still had an hour before sunset, and I probably had another 35 minutes of driving. I’d make it, but it would be close. I did my makeup in the car; I got all my stuff ready , assuming I'd arrive at the last minute.

6:24 p.m.: Just a few miles past the bridge and still stuck in traffic. My panic was increasing exponentially. I don’t own a cell phone but thankfully my mom had convinced me to take one – just in case –. I called home, trying to sound calm and asked my dad if he thought I’d make it. I still didn’t think I wouldn’t, I just needed a little reassurance. I asked him to get onto mapquest and check exactly how far I was, and to tell me what time Shabbat started at exactly. I figured once I had facts and he’d tell me it was fine, I’d feel much better.
This is where I got the real shock.
He told me the complete trip was 76.53 miles and I was about 20.6 miles into the trip. I had approximately 56 miles left – and then he told me Shabbat started at 6:50, with the 18 minutes factored in, I had 38 minutes left.
38 minutes to drive 56 miles on a traffic jammed highway, in the middle of the country.
PANIC set in.
I felt my head spinning.. what.. do.. I .. do??? I yelled!
My dad was trying to stay calm; my mom was getting slightly hysterical in the background.
WHAT DO I DO?!!?! Will I make it?! Where do I go??
At this point he started to sound worried and told me there was no way I‘d make it. Even if I could do 56 miles in 38 minutes, there was NO way I’d make it with the traffic ahead. The car just wasn’t budging. By then I was hysterical, breaking into cold sweat, my head spinning, my mouth dry, my sense of clarity completely vanished.
Again I yelled: TELL ME WHAT TO DO, I’m really scared!!
My dad told me to just get off the highway and look for a sign back home and take it. But, even that didn’t make sense. It had taken me over an hour to drive those 20 miles; I’d never make it back home in half an hour. By then my mom grabbed the phone and just told me to get off the highway, wherever I was, and try my best to get back.

My dad is the calm, logical one, my mom is the more emotional one, but when push comes to shove, her panic transforms into faith, whereas my dad’s clear appraisal of the facts leads him to panic. She told me I’d make it, and not to worry and she’d stay on the phone with me until I did. I couldn’t think clear, I couldn’t see clear, I was just running on her faith. The fear wasn’t only not havnig where to spend shabbat, the fear was also of getting stuck all alone, in the middle of nowhere.
I took the first exit I saw and found myself driving into even more rural land. All I saw were empty fields, tractors and greenhouses.
Not a soul in sight.

6:30 p.m. : The tranquility and serenity of the sun setting on a Friday afternoon driving around farmland was in complete contradiction with the utter panic and anxiety I was feeling. My mom kept calm and just kept repeating, just look for a road out, you’ll be fine, you have time. I knew I didn’t, there was no way I had enough time, let alone time to get lost, but I had no choice but to believe her. I drove around a few more minutes and finally found myself back on the highway back home.

6:40 p.m.: Back on the road, in the right direction and only 20 miles from home; I could potentially make it...if I could fly over the traffic. At this point my mother’s faith was starting to seep in and I told myself I was out of the country, I was on my way back to city and worse case scenario, I’d leave my car and walk the 20 miles.

7:05 p.m.: I won’t hold you in suspense, thank G-d, I made it. I arrived at home a couple of minutes before shabbat started. I barely stopped the car and ran into the house.

Try explaining to someone who doesn’t keep Shabbat how excruciatingly frightening it is to be stuck too far from home, trapped on a highway, in the middle of the country, minutes before sunset on a Friday. Forget challah and wine, forget kosher food, forget good company – how does one not panic not knowing where they will sleep or remain for the next 24 hours. Do you knock at the farmer’s house and ask him to spend the night there? The farmer who’s probably never met a Jew and wont understand why you’re there? Never mind the dangers involved! Do you keep driving and break Shabbat? Do you stop the car on the highway and walk.. and walk.. and walk.. on a rural highway? It's amazing to think that something so abstract and intangible as shabbat could cause such intense emotions. The fear and anxiety I felt was SO real and so palpable, it blows my mind.

I break into a cold sweat trying to imagine what would have happened if I had kept driving, or gotten lost on the way. I honestly don’t know what I would have done. I always thought that if G-d forbid I found myself in such a situation, I would simply park the car and walk to the closest place I could spend Shabbat. I’ll be honest though, when all I could see were greenhouses, tractors, and traffic in all directions, I couldn’t imagine stopping.
I couldn’t imagine driving and I couldn’t imagine stopping.
What would you have done?
Honestly?