It's Crazy What a Minute Can Do

Everything's different
With my head in the clouds
I hit this corner 
With my foot on the gas 
I started sliding, I lose it 
Everything's different just like that 


           -So Damn Lucky, Dave Matthews Band


Mike and I were at Lambert-St. Louis International Airport on April 22 when it took a direct hit from an F-4 tornado.  One minute were were ambling about, waiting for friends to arrive from London via O'Hare, and the next dust, glass and debris was swirling through the lower level of the parking garage, through the glass doors by which we were standing, and Mike was yelling at me to run.  So I ran.  I remember something whizzing by my head, maybe a suitcase or a ceiling tile, and I looked behind me to make sure he was still there.  "Don't look at me, run!"  So I ran.  Less than 30 seconds, less than 50 yards.  But it seemed an eternity.  


I grew up with the reality of severe weather and tornadoes.  The drills at school.  The warning sirens.  Go to the basement or the most interior room of your house, away from windows.  I know the drill.  But I have never been in a tornado.  To say that it was terrifying is almost an understatement.   Yes, it was terrifying, but it's more than that.  It's awe-inspiring and humbling to witness first-hand how vulnerable you are to the forces of nature.  As much as you may be prepared for it, or even aware it is approaching, you're pretty much at the mercy of the circumstances of the storm and where you happen to be when it strikes.  And we were at Lambert.


I'm going to pause here and offer up the fact that I have been a government employee.  Two years as a state appellate court clerk, 6 years as a city attorney.  I am not a government basher.  I know that most government employees are hard-working and loyal.  I have spent enough hours in kevlar, riding around with cops in bad neighborhoods in the middle of the night, to appreciate the selflessness and courage of most of our men and women in blue.  But all that said, I found the lack of warning, coordination or leadership at Lambert to be appalling.    As much as the post-tornado spin has focused on the miracle that there were no serious injuries or loss of life, I can attest to the fact that that was the result of either luck or the grace of God.  It was not because of any procedures in place at Lambert.  We were there 20 minutes before the tornado hit, and heard none of the announcements that were supposedly made.  And if there were any announcements, why were so many people on the upper concourse when the glass came showering down, including TSA workers manning the security checkpoints?  And have you seen the Youtube video of all the people in the east terminal standing by the windows, watching the clouds swirl by?  


In the aftermath of the storm, and amidst the chaos, there were some moments I will never forget.  Little Emilynn, cut from the car glass which imploded around her as she waited for her Daddy to come home.  The missionary nurse, bound for Haiti, who took care of her.  The panic which ensued every time someone screamed that another tornado was coming (the Starbucks workers were particularly dramatic, running from the store screaming, "we're gonna die").  People cowering in the bathrooms.  


If there is one thing, the one defining thing, that I will never forget about that night, it is my husband.  Calm and rational, I often mistake his even keel as emotional detachment.   But you can count on him.  If the shit goes down, you want him with you.  Armed with an iPad and a since-childhood fascination with meteorology, he declared the weather coast clear and decided we needed to get out of the airport pronto, lest we be stranded there all night.  Honestly, at this point I would have followed him into a fire, so we made for the Jeep and exited the garage through the taxi-only exit and made our way home via back roads (the highways were closed due to all the downed power lines and overturned trucks).

My takeaway from all of this.  First, you are really on your own in any disaster.  Rely on your own judgment.  Don't expect anyone to protect you.  After 30 seconds, it was apparent that the TSA workers at Lambert, while armed with walkie talkies, are only prepared to deal with double-parked cars and too much shampoo in a carry-on bag.  Probably unfair, but that's my impression.  Second, be aware of your surroundings if there is any threat of severe weather.  I always try to park in the lower level of the parking garage when picking up international travelers, with their extra luggage, but we made a real effort to do so that night because of the weather.  Good thing.  Third, be wary of picking Ellen and Piers up at the airport.  Blizzards, tornadoes and assassinations seem to ensue every time they travel.  Finally, if Mike tells you to run, run.  Don't look back, just run.