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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jarval" data-source="post: 823359" data-attributes="member: 421">October 17th, 2003.  11:39 PM.  I-90 Exit 23 Rest Stop, Montana.You've never seen a snowstorm like this.  October in the Montana mountains can be bad, but for hours now it's been a virtual white-out.  The snow must be at least fifteen inches deep on the highway, and the weather's showing no signs of breaking.It's close to midnight now, but you've been stranded since sundown in a small interstate rest stop, waiting for the plows to come through so that you can get back on the road.  A handfull of motorists share your predicament, plus a couple of rest stop employees who have stayed on to serve coffee and food for the duration of the storm.Each of you has places to go and things to do, but for now you're all stuck here.  No one's driving anywhere tonight, and no one's coming to get you out.You're all gathered in the donut shop, the warmest place in the rest stop now that the restaurant has closed for the night. You've passing the time with a paperback novel or a magazine, or chatting with the other motorists.Other than yourselves, there are eight other people at Exit 23:Sat by himself, over in one corner of the donut shop, is a balding business executive of about 50, wearing a good suit and conservative overcoat.  He's working his way through a stack of newspapers, filling out the crossword in each.Sat together at a table to you left are a short, stocky lady truck driver wearing a sheepskin vest over a flannel shirt, and a young man with South Asian or Indian features.  You've gathered from snippets of their conversation you've overheard that he runs the gas station.Leaning his chair back against the shop's counter is a long-haired college student with tinted glasses, an Army jacket, and a sketchbook filled with Gigeresque drawings.  He's absentmindedly sketching to while away the time.Standing behind the shop's counter are two women.  A matronly waitress of about sixty years who runs the donut shop, who you've heard people call "Mabel", and a pretty teenage girl who runs the register in the convenience store.  She's closed up the shop for the night, and stands chatting with Mabel.A big, beefy truck driver in a cheap parka and black baseball cap sits at a table close to the shop door.  He's got a big jug of coffee, several donuts, and a large pile of fishing magazines.A teenage kid with long hair and an apron who does the short-order cooking in the fast-food restaurant moves back and forth between the shop and the amusement arcade towards the back of the rest stop.  He stops to talk with Mabel and the teenage girl every so often, before heading back to the games.</blockquote>

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