I was at the dentist yesterday getting my tenth or eleventh filling (what does it say about my ongoing dental adventures of the last two-three years that I have actually lost track of A. how many times I've been to the dentist lately and B. how many fillings I've had over the same time period.) and while I was waiting for the drugs to kick in on my back upper jaw, I turned on the television in the exam room and watched coverage on the terrible tornadoes that have been ripping across the Midwest.
The CNN weatherperson had ordered his crews in the Joplin Area to leave the area – to literally not be around the area when last night's latest batch of tornadoes hit because the debris that had been left in the wake of the first F-5 would likely be caught up in the weather and turned into dangerous projectiles. I never even thought of that.
This seems so scary to me. I remember back when I lived in San Antonio when Katrina hit the Gulf states in 2005. About a month after Katrina hit (maybe only three weeks or so) Rita had formed over the Gulf and its cone of landfall was directed straight over San Antonio. I didn't think we'd get much rain – by the time that hurricane would be that far inland, it would only be a category 1 storm, which isn't that big a deal compared. I decided I should get a few supplies in case anything happened (extra toilet paper, some water, and matches/candles). When I got to the Walmart down the street from where I lived, it was a total MADHOUSE. Everyone else had had the same idea as me, and the place was mobbed.
What made that so stupid was that everyone panicked over Rita's potential landfall and San Antonio never got any rain from Rita, and didn't have rain for weeks surrounding her existence either. I at least had toilet paper.
The recent spate of horrendous tornadoes dislodged a long-buried tornado memory. The only summer I returned home from college was 2002 – there were numerous graduations to attend (my sister from high school and several friends from college – unlike me they didn't change their major three times and transfer out of state, hah). That summer was the summer that I stayed with Sarah and Bill in Westchester for Rhoda's UCLA grad, Sam, Malvina, and I (and Felicia) went to Disneyland together for the first time, Sarah got married, among other things large, small, tragic. It was also the summer that I learned to drive a stick-shift.
At the time, I was learning to drive the truck (a turquoise Ford Ranger that I loved, but drove me nuts over the years until I totalled it in 2005 -another story). My dad had taught me how to drive it out at the old Price Club parking lot, and I was still having problems getting it out of first gear and stalling it all over the place. I would take myself on adventures around the block, and I remember the first time I made it to the Long's Drugs a mile away without stalling, I was so thrilled I bought myself a Crunchy Bar.
So in August of that year my dad and I packed up the truck and headed out to Texas so I could start the first of three senior years. (Which is what happens when you change your majuor 3 times and transfer out of state.)
It was somewhere along I-10 East in New Mexico when we ran into the storm. To our right, I noticed a white funnel cloud touching down. It wasn't a big one – maybe 10-20 feet in diameter at the ground, but I'd never seen one in real life before, so I was kind of thrilled. My dad was asleep in the passenger seat, and I was driving the truck that I had just learned how to drive only a month or so before.
I looked over to my left, and there were three funnel clouds touching down over the fields. The farmland was stark with brown grass and the sky was black with lightning and rain. My dad woke up and I pointed out the funnel clouds to him. The one on the right had inched closer to the road and another had formed behind it. Five funnel clouds, surrounding us.
Not gonna lie, this was scary, especially with the wind whipping the lightweight truck around and the rain coming down in sheets.
Now, I know that these little twisters were nothing compared to what has happened to the Midwest this spring, but if I thought that these five twisters were scary, I can hardly imagine what it must be like to experience a real tornado – and let me tell you, it's so much more relaxing to deal with living in earthquake country. My heart goes out to our friends in the Midwest.
