Growing up in Kansas has led me to be a fairly seasoned weather “reader.” I can generally tell when a storm is going to get scary and when it’s not. I’ll probably drive in it either way. I have a dream about twice a year that tornadoes are dropping out of the sky, right in front of me, in my neighborhood, on the highway, out the window. Par for the course I suppose.

On May 8, 2003, my three roommates (including Kristen) and I ended up in a bathtub with pillows and blankets, on the ground floor of our townhouse, which seemed about as flimsy as a matchbook at that point.

The day started out HOT. Like, blistering, tank top, under-boob sweat (you know) hot. I had just gotten back from a study abroad in Europe, and had spent a week at my parents house before coming back to Lawrence, so I was just enjoying the fact that I didn’t have finals, and, well, that it was hot. I like hot weather.

As the afternoon rolled on, the sky got cloudy and the weather cooled off. Fast. Then the sky got greeny. K and I were glued to the weather reports on the local station, channel 6, while my other roommates were talking about how they wanted to see a tornado. Girl, you crazy! K and I were hanging out in the bathroom, sirens going off, wind like whoa. Then we heard that a tornado was racing west on 23rd Street. We happened to live in an apartment complex on the western end of 23rd street. Freaking out commenced.

The weather dude said they would all be taking cover now, because the storm was headed RIGHT THIS WAY. This announcement caused my other roommates to drop the bravado and run into the bathroom yelling “we’re all gonna die!” as they jumped into the tub. Which brings us to four adult 20 and 21 year old women huddled together in a bathtub, generally flipping out.

The sound of the tornado hopping (thankfully) over our apartment complex, and, as we learned shortly after, to the apartments across the street, where it caused significant damage, was like a combination of giant vacuum and freight train. The walls shook, the lights flickered. The whole bit.

Then it was quiet. We wandered outside to survey the damage. Fiberglass insulation was everywhere. We saw a deck umbrella bent in half like a bobby pin. Grills and patio furniture were strewn around for a couple of blocks. We walked across the street to check out the damage. It was intense. No one died. A car got destroyed by an apartment collapsing toward its garage. I gave a phone interview to a KC news station.Our neighbors claimed they stayed out and watched the whole thing. I didn’t believe that for a second.

It was Stop Day Eve. I didn’t feel like going out. 

That’s the closest I’ve ever come to a tornado, and that’s close enough, thank you. I can’t imagine the devastation that’s happening in Joplin right now. Or Reading. or the past destruction of Greensburg, Haysville, or Andover. My thoughts are with everyone who has been touched by the damage a tornado can cause.