Hurricane Game

Call me chicken shit, I don't care, but tonight was probably one of the most terrifying nights of my life.

I left work at twelve twenty a.m., knowing full well we had a hurricane pummeling towards us, but from what the news was saying, she was still slightly south from my location and home was forty-three miles north. So, I got in my car, buckled my seat belt and put my brave face on. I wanted to be with my family.

I wasn't far into my journey before I realized the bitch was here. Maybe not her core, but her arms had reach. My usual one-handed driving quickly switched to the driver's ed taught ten and two, as I carefully merged onto the interstate at forty mph. Even that might have been too fast. I could feel my adrenaline rising as I focused my squinted eyes on the painted lines and told myself to take it one patch of light at a time.

The wind picked up and began thrusting itself against the side of my car and pushed waves of water across the path I desperately tried to follow. It looked like I was no longer driving. Somehow, I had gone from driving an automobile to steering a boat. Hazard Lights Pirates fearlessly zoomed passed me in their speed boats as my chug boat steadily made its way through the black tar sea.

There were moments in time when I felt at ease. I had familiarized myself with the currents and had loud music cocooning me from the sounds of chaos that swirled outside my aluminum box. It wasn't until about half-way through my drive when the real terror set in. My radio, my only friend, decided to betray me and allow evil into my boat box. It went silent and then released the sounds of an emergency alert alarm. Soon after, a strange man's voice began echoing through the speakers.

I don't remember exactly what he said but it was along the lines of, "Warning, severe thunderstorms and tornado warnings in affect. Seek shelter immediately. Do not wait to see or hear a tornado. They are difficult to see at night. Flying debris are hazardous when in a vehicle. Seek shelter immediately. There is a tornado warning for..." That's when he proceeded to list every area that was under a tornado warning. I was right in the middle of said areas.

I immediately imagined a tornado creeping alongside the interstate; peering into my windshield like a hungry child pressing its face against the glass at an ice cream parlor, just waiting to scoop me up like death-day cake ice cream. The rain began pouring harder and even more angled. Lightning and thunder cheered rain on, like he was the underdog in a feel-good movie who was finally showing what he was truly capable of. I was on the brink of full panic mode, so I did what any irresponsible adult would do and changed the station while keeping the course. The last thing I needed was to hear a man telling me what I was doing wrong and upsetting me. I needed peace. I had about ten seconds of that musical peace until that same man took over the new station.

"Warning..."

As a reflex, I quickly pushed the button to a different station. That one only allotted me a few seconds of peace too, before allowing the voice of impending death to once again taunt me.

"Shut the fuck up!"

Was this a sign? I was too far passed my friend's apartment to seek shelter with her and I didn't know anyone else beyond that point. I didn't know what else to do, so I decided to keep pushing. I wanted my husband.

The radio man eventually stopped harassing me as the weather strengthened its assault. I couldn't see anything anymore; just sheets of rain flapping around like God was playing the rainbow parachute kid's game with me. He kept bringing the sheet up and down, up and down, only I wasn't laughing. I felt like that one child who would sit in the middle of the parachute and cried because she couldn't find her way out. Fight, flight nor freeze were available as options when Mother Nature was your new mommy now.

Thirty miles in and I was still alive. Lightning continued to show off and thunder continued to clap as I couldn't stop envisioning a tornado being the one who did me in. Hurricanes don't really scare me, but tornadoes can probably cause me to shit my pants. The movie "Twister" creeped into my mind. I began battling myself internally.

"Well, they survived a tornado just by pushing down on the brakes and letting it spin them around."

"Wow, you're a moron! It's a movie! A, say it with me, fictional movie! Do you honestly think that pushing on the brakes somehow magically allows you to be cemented to the ground?! You're fucked."

"We're fucked. You're me, stupid!"

"Yup. We're going to die."

Then I thought about Dori. "Just keep swimming." Yup, at some point during my nightmarish journey, Ellen DeGeneres helped me "swim". With that mantra in mind, I was able to make it home. As I put the boat in park, it felt like my adrenaline had released itself from my body and allowed anxiety to take its place. I felt heavy and drained.

I opened the front door to find my husband standing there waiting for me. He had a grin on his face. Not one of maliciousness or amusement. It was more so a look of awkward empathy because he knew I had just overcome hell. He had his gamer headphones on, and I could see Call of Duty paused on the TV. I guess we were both at war, only mine had a single lifeline.

"I'm not okay," I said with my body trembling. Sea legs, I suppose.

"You're home now," he said as he pulled me into his arms.

During my shower, I couldn't wash away the fear of a tornado tearing through our house. We were still in an area that was under a tornado warning. Even with the terrorizing thought of a killer tornado being the cause of our demise, my weight still came to mind. I didn't want my slightly overweight body to be found naked in rubble. Even in death, I would be embarrassed. No, I needed to be fully clothed. I quickly rinsed my body off and got dressed. My body from two years ago, sure, let my death be tragic and fit, but not today. I wasn't ready for my lack of self-care to be so openly exposed.

It only took a few minutes on the couch next to my husband for me to finally feel grounded. He was my anchor, forever keeping me from going adrift in my thoughts and emotions. I was grateful to be home. Safety harbor.