We drove out of Oklahoma City this morning on I-40; the very same road that took the lives of nine* people last night.

All the restaurants were shut down in our part of town, so we did without breakfast today.  Our hotel was right off I-40, north of the airport and in the direct path of the storm.  I’ve never experienced such fear.

Now that it’s over, I can be a little calmer and more rational about it.  The hotel staff was superb.  They followed their safety training and remained calm in spite of the fact that they were clearly terrified.  The guy in charge of our group had a walkie-talkie and was able to communicate with someone who had access to the weather service and got very detailed information about the storm.  We’d hear over the walkie-talkie, “It’s 10 minutes out and touched down on 1-40 1/4 mile south” … and then, “3 minutes out.  Still circulating.”

Finally, over a crackling walkie-talkie, “It’s one minute out. Take cover.”

Our guy said, “Ok, here it comes.  You’re going to hear it, but don’t panic.  We’re in a concrete tunnel designed specifically for this purpose.  It’s going to be alright.”

We all covered our heads with pillows and listened to the wind, the driving rain, and people softly crying and praying.   When you’ve reached the point that you’re hoping a pillow will keep your children from dying, the word “helpless” acquires a new depth.

Oddly enough, we never lost power or internet connection.  Adam had his iPad with LTE network and a couple other people had smart phones, so we were all able to watch the TV news coverage live.  It was terrifying to see that red projected path line going straight through our hotel’s address, like a little virtual arrow of death.  Even with up-to-the-second updates, we still felt starved for information.  What we were really desperate to know was the future.

After the twisters had passed our area, we were allowed into the hotel lobby but not on any of the upper floors.  All the guests were packed into the lobby, hopped up on adrenaline and a combination of fear and relief.  A make-shift party broke out and a lot of people decided to get drunk.  They needed to blow off steam.  Many of them, including the family in our section of hallway, were already refugees who had lost their homes in Moore just two weeks ago.  I can’t imagine how they cope.

We went back up to our room about 40 minutes later when they’d determined our area was out of danger.  Adam and I had poured a couple glasses of wine about 3 hours earlier and hadn’t touched them.  They were sitting there with all the worldly possessions we’d packed in a panic when we thought we might have time to evacuate the area completely, even though we had no idea where we’d go.  It was strange to see everything exactly as we’d left it.  When we headed downstairs, we didn’t know if we’d ever see any of that stuff again.

This morning, trees were down around the hotel grounds and there was a lot of debris from the flooding, but none of the cars were damaged and I don’t think the building itself sustained any real damage.  All the restaurants in the area were closed and we didn’t know what to expect of the highway. We decided to just leave and hope for the best.

Tree outside our hotel window this morning.

Tree branches, sign and misc crap all over the roads and parking lots.
We packed up and left – nothing was open in our area so we needed to get out of town to find some breakfast.

Last night I also found out that my grandfather died.  We’ve changed our itinerary to head north much sooner than originally planned to attend his funeral.  We already have hotel reservations in Wichita, Kansas for tonight, so we’ll stay there and then do a couple of “iron butt” days up to Colorado.  I think we’ll have a couple of days to see Pike’s Peak and stay in The Stanley — the hotel used in the movie “The Shining.”  Then on to Montana for Grandpa’s funeral, which will probably be next Saturday.

We stopped in a couple little towns on our way to Wichita today:  Guthrie and Ponca City.

Guthrie was a cute little town with a bunch of preserved buildings downtown (it used to be the capital of Oklahoma) that are now antique shops.  They were having a farmer’s market in the town square this morning and we bought a bar of homemade goatsmilk soap from a little girl who milks her own goats.

Ponca City is an oil town.  We visited a mansion built in 1924 by an oil tycoon named Ernest Whitworth Marland, which cost him over $5 million at the time.  He went broke after living in the place for a mere 10 years (J.P. Morgan engineered a hostile takeover of his company) and the house was sold to some monks for $66,000.  The monks, in turn, sold it to some nuns for $50,000 and it’s now a private school and museum.

Marland Mansion

(Brenda again…)  Ponca City was also having their annual “Herb Festival” to raise money for a local Presbyterian Chapter, and the rest of the town was shut down.  Everyone was at the festival, so we stopped by to check it out.  Adam bought some homemade beef jerky and Holden bought a handmade ceramic turtle to add to his turtle collection.

Holden hurrying past the “boring” basket display.

All three kids adding their names to the Name Chalkboard.

All in all, today was a somber day.  In spite of the pleasant distractions, our thoughts kept going back to the tornado, and forward to the funeral. The kids have wanted — needed — to talk about death a lot.  It’s morbid, but talking helps.  None of us slept well last night — the storm didn’t abate until after 3 a.m. — so tonight we’re hanging out in the hotel and will leave first thing tomorrow for Colorado Springs.  It will be a long day of driving, but we’re anxious to get out of this part of the country and closer to Montana.

(*As of June 2, the death toll has reached 13 as they continue to find bodies.)