Shit.
A school staffer came out to the curb and went car to car, telling us that the school would hold the students until the tornado warning passed. He invited us to wait out the storm inside the building.
I thanked him for the offer, which a dozen or so of my fellow pickup artists accepted, saying that I preferred to stay outside. As ever-stronger gusts rocked my TrailBlazer, the group disappeared behind the school's locked front door and it occurred to me that I might not have made the wiser choice.
Too late. The wind shifted from south to east and started to swirl. Then came sheets of rain, turning the sky a chalky gray and reducing visibility to near zero, thwarting my plan to seek cover if I spotted a funnel -- I couldn't see a thing.(I could, however, hear my wife cursing my bullheadedness.)
I tuned the radio to a local all-talk station which had dumped Rush Limbaugh (alas, only temporarily) to cover the severe weather. Preempting the High Priest of Pomposity is always a good thing, but there was bad news, too: the National Weather Service had extended the tornado warning for another 45 minutes and the nastiest part of the storm was headed my way.
Shit.
There was more wind, more rain and a lot more wondering what was hiding inside the clouds -- but no funnels.The spawn came out a half-hour later than usual, telling a tale of hunkering in a hallway with his classmates. At the height of the storm, he said, the wind sucked open the back doors of the school.
And yes, I told him of his old man's (arguably) ill-advised decision not to join the smarter people indoors, urging him not to follow my example.
All together now: Do as I say...
