Gab:
I never thought I would cheer for the Fighting Illini, but the University of Illinois unknowingly pulled us out of harm’s way and I’m feeling a new connection with a Big Ten rival.
A few of our East Coast friends decided to get married this summer. Luckily for us, both couples chose the same week. Our original plan was to leave the ‘Tima in Seattle and fly home for the celebrations. Plans changed. We altered our route to spend some time with friends in Omaha, then drive east ourselves.
The morning of the second leg – from Peoria, Illinois to Bloomington, Indiana – was uneventful. In fact, we had already missed the Champagne/Urbana exit when we decided to take a break and visit the University of Illinois, home for a while to Michael’s uncle and alma mater of one of his cousins.
The campus is nice. The stadium is huge. We were debating whether to stop for lunch or resume our drive when we noticed the sky getting more than a little gray. Lunch it is. We’ll let the shower pass then get back on the road.
No sooner had we parked the car and fed the meter than we noticed people opening their doors and coming outside to view the sky. Hmm. Do clouds always swirl like that in Illinois? Strange, but not disturbing. Then the sirens start to wail – the kind they use when they are testing your city’s Emergency Broadcast System. Good Lord, are we in the midst of a tornado?
We ducked into the nearest door, which happened to be Legends Bar and Grille and quickly dialed Bruce, Nebraska resident and one-time meteorology student. That makes him an expert, right?
“Bruce, tell us again what it’s like before a tornado.”
We had been obsessing about tornados (and rattlesnakes) during our entire stay with Bruce in Nebraska. Only this time, his response to our persistent questioning was not so calming.
“Well, I can hear sirens in the background. That’s usually the first sign. (long pause) Where are you?”
We were apparently in the midst of a “pink” region on the Weather Channel’s map.
“Bruce, is that bad?”
“You’re inside, right?”
“Yes.”
“What’s everybody else doing?”
“Playing darts.”
The bartender on duty is witness to this entire conversation and he thinks it is very funny. He also witnesses me dash back out the car, grab the computer, camera and our passports and drag the heavy bag back into the bar, but not before I put more quarters in the parking meter. Meter maids probably have more important things on their mind right now, but you never know.
When I returned the bartender assured me that the last time there was a tornado, they all ducked into the beer cooler and everything was fine. My antics and wide eyed looks make Michael laugh. It also made him hungry. We ordered the burger special and sat down at the bar, away from the windows per Bruce’s instructions.
At that moment, the heavens opened and the most insane thunder and lightning show I have ever seen blossomed in front of our eyes.
This is good. Because I also know from my Nebraskan pal that tornados don’t happen when it’s raining. The danger is over! Relieved, I dig into my burger and call our friend Thalia in Bloomington to let her know we’ll be a little late.
But wait. There’s more.
Back on I-74, we pass an overturned tractor trailer. And then another. And then three in a row. A tunnel cloud had touched down in Vermillion County, right about where we would have been had we not stopped to say hi to the Fighting Illini.
We drove to Bloomington in the wake of the storm. They definitely do not have lightning like this in PA. Michael and I were both enraptured by the sky scenes that made the afternoon’s show seem like an opening act. Although the sky eventually cleared to an eerie pre-sunset blue, evidence of the weather we missed was everywhere. Trees down. Power and traffic lights out. The entire towns of Greencastle, Cloverdale, Spencer and more in darkness.
The next day, we drove the last and longest leg to Harrisburg, ready to tell our friends and family about our brush with nature. Flipping through familiar radio stations, we heard that two major roads not far from Harrisburg were closed, police were diverting traffic and everyone was advised to stay clear of the area. Broken water main? Power line down? Like the swirling clouds in Champaign, strange, but not disturbing. Only when we finally arrived at Michael’s parents house late that night did we learn that another tornado had touched down – this time 15 minutes away from our homes!
Two dozen families lost their homes in Lebanon County, Pennsylvania. More than a hundred homes were damaged. The National Weather Service arrived the following day and said yes indeed it was a tornado. Unlikely but not impossible. Two tunnel cloud events in one day.
So it seems that our apprehension and fear was legitimate, despite the bartender’s guffaws. Tornados are real and cause real damage. They can’t be taken lightly. We escaped danger (thank you, Illini!) The folks in Pennsylvania did not.
If you would like to help any of the Lebanon County families that lost their homes due to the tornado closest to our home, you can check out www.salemministry.org\PACC or send donations to the South Londonderry Township Tornado Relief Fund, Township Building, P.O. Box 3, Campbelltown, PA 17010.