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On the edge of Lake George, in a quiet, shady neighborhood blocks away from the local tourist traps, Edna and Frank Burns have found their land of Canaan. As Edna dusted off the welcome mat to their modest three-bedroom ranch house and Frank oiled the hinge on their screen door, the middle-aged couple reflected on their good fortune in a time of tribulation.

“We made it out in time. Boss said we could leave this Wednesday,” said Frank, an insurance salesman who until recently called Hartford, Connecticut, home. “But we know of others,” he said, eyes lowering, “who were not so lucky.”

The Burnses are part of an unprecedented population flow within American borders, one overwhelming communities throughout the Northeast as married residents of Connecticut flee the state. As of this Saturday, same-sex unions gained legal status in Connecticut. Friday night, married couples could be seen loading their Buicks, their Hummers, their Dodge Durangos and their Winnebagos all up and down Halls Hill Road in Colchester.

“We’ve heard the news,” explained Sam Davis, Jr. as he brought his wife’s suitcase down a flight of stairs. “Same-sex unions are coming, and they say our marriages are threatened as a result. Well, I love my wife, and I’m not about to let our marriage fail! We’re moving to Las Vegas.” Mr. Davis continued to mutter as the zipper on the suitcase fell open; he hurriedly put the luggage half-closed in his Aerostar and drove off, leaving the top half of a frilly negligee floating in the northerly breeze.

Davis’ decision to move quickly proved prudent; while he made it across the Connecticut border just before 11 pm Friday night, many others were not so lucky. Nearly all couples chose to drove west out of the state to protect their marriages before the law took effect; Massachussets already has a law permitting same-sex marriage and, as Hilda Tsoudis formerly of Waterbury put it as she dined with her husband Chuck at a roadside eatery, “Rhode Island just doesn’t seem safe.” And so tens of thousands of cars clogged Interstate 84 as the last few hours of Eastern Daylight Time ticked away.

As it became clear that traffic jams of husbands and wives seeking to save their marriages would not clear in time for all to make it across the border before the marriage-destroying law took effect at midnight, some became desperate. “I don’t want a divorce! Please, I don’t want to take up witchcraft, join a terrorist cell, and practice lesbianism. Someone help us! Does anyone have a can of gas?” cried an unidentified woman at the side of the road as others slowly passed by, avoiding eye contact. Henry Carlton of Christian Marriage Rescue Ministries handed the woman a Bible and suggested that she try walking the remaining twenty miles herself via Joes Hill Road. Mr. Carlton smiled encouragingly as she took off down the road with her spouse George trailing behind pushing a shopping cart full of sports drinks they had “found.” As she moved out of walking distance, however, Mr. Carlton’s smile faded. “Let’s be realistic,” he said in low tones. “Look at her thighs; she’s out of shape. That pair isn’t going to make it out in foot on time. The best we can hope for in their case is an amiable separation. But I hate to take away hope.” As Mr. Carlton’s supply of Bibles ran out, he climbed aboard his helicopter and moved toward “higher ground” in New York. “I hear there’s a motel with space in Brewster,” Mr. Carlton said.

In the final minutes of the eleven-o-clock hour, those on Interstate 84 near the border with New York State began to leave their cars at the side of the road and sprint across to marriage-safe ground. Those couples lucky enough to make it fell onto the grass just across the line, hugged, and began to plan their next steps. Those who remained behind in Connecticut began looking for lawyers to fill out divorce papers.

Perhaps the most tragic case this reporter witnessed was of a young pair, running hand in hand as the bells of midnight chimed. Louis Valima, formerly of New Haven, made it across the border just as the last bell chimed. Margie Valima lagged one step behind, in Connecticut. The two looked at each other as the new day of legal same-sex unions broke. “Sweetie?” asked Mr. Valima tentatively. “Aren’t we going now?” Mrs. Valima slapped away his hand, spat in his eye, and groaned, “Don’t give me that patriarchal crap. We’re history.” As she walked away eastward without looking back, she could be heard calling out to the assembled, thrusting crowd of remaining Connecticuters, “Does anybody have a pair of clippers? I’ve just got to get rid of this helmet hair. And how about a broomstick?”