Ten years ago, at 9:15pm, I made a decision that saved my life. Two blocks away, the Kentucky Wildcats were up next to play in the Georgia dome and I was determined to watch at least a little of the game.
Having presented for a day and a half beforehand, and with another speaking day looming in the morning, it was safe to say I was tired and needed sleep. I had just returned from dinner with my host and good friend, washed my face, put my jammies on and settled down to watch the game on TV, only to find the prior game was in overtime. Imagine my disappointment.
Now, typically, before going to bed in the evenings, I would put ear plugs in to block all the noises that accompany a stay in a hotel. Tonight, I did not. This was the second decision that saved my life that night, and consequently, I do not use ear plugs anymore.
In an oversized, corner room on the top floor of the Omni Hotel, mindlessly flipping through a convention program, I remember thinking how nice it was to simply relax. There had been a light, steady rain, but nothing that set off any warnings in this Texas gal’s mind.
In this same instance, the television abruptly displayed, “Satellite dish cannot be located.” I had been having similar problems with my DVR at home, so applying the same remedy, I jumped off my bed, remote in hand, pointed it at the TV and punched the button decisively. I was confused when it didn’t work.
Next came the wind. How in the world was I hearing the wind on the top floor of a hotel? In the split second that I faced the window expanse, my body felt as if it was being pulled from inside-out, my ears were in massive pain and the hair on my neck stood straight. Thankfully, my brain activated its emergency response system and moved my feet toward the bathroom.
As I rounded the corner, the windows exploded. Sounds of destruction filled the room. I flung myself into the bathroom and locked the door as I laughed, thinking “oh, yeah, that will most certainly keep the weather out.” The laugh must have been a nervous response; I’m sure my brain had not even wrapped itself around what was happening.
As it slowly sank in that a tornado was hitting the hotel, I tried to figure out what to do. The brain came up with an obvious plan – GET OUT. I slowly opened the bathroom door, crawled my way to the front and tried to open the door, but the wind held it shut. This was force against force, and I lost. I crawled back to the bathroom, grabbing my tennis shoes and my cell phone from the hallway where I had put them the night before.
“A safe place or my tomb?” I wondered, as the water sloshed out of the toilet and the building rocked.
It’s amazing how quickly one can lace tennis shoes under duress. I held my cell phone and laughed at how dad used to stand on the front porch at home, watching for tornadoes. He had passed away one year prior and I somehow felt he was responsible at this demise. I prayed for my mom and for my family; I prayed for my goddaughters.
The pressure between my ears felt as if my head would explode. My stomach was in battle with every delectable bite of the dinner I had enjoyed not only an hour before. The building was rocking like an earthquake. The noise was unimaginably deafening. I could not hear even myself as I prayed, and had to yell to hear anything at all. The intensity of the tornado penetrated every fiber of my body, and yet, I felt calm.
I was pretty sure if I didn’t die from the tornado that I would die from the building collapse. Visions of the World Trade Center and the downtown Fort Worth tornado that wrapped itself around the buildings flooded my memory. “Is this how they felt,” I wondered.
I remember how surprised I was at this being the end of my life. Honestly, I was okay with it being the end, but thought the timing was off. There was no way anyone could survive this, I thought.
Then, it stopped. Everything stopped. The overwhelming, gut-pulling nausea, the earthquake-like rocking, the debilitating noise. My ears pounded in my head, but it was abruptly quiet. I grabbed a jacket out of the closet, briefly glanced at my destroyed room, and flung open the door. What was chaos in my room was only dust in the hallway. It was a weird sight to compare.
After knocking on the doors to make sure no one was in the rooms, I tried the stairwell in that same hallway. The ceiling was collapsed in. I noticed others coming out of their rooms on the opposite end of the floor, and made my way over. The hotel emergency alarms finally sounded.
My body was internally quaking as if every nerve had been put on active duty. In an attempt dull the sensation, I requested a shot of tequila at the lobby bar. The bartender politely informed me that we needed to evacuate due to the tornado. I stared at him blankly, held on to the bar counter for equilibrium, and said please. After he poured a generous shot, he came around, held my arm and asked if I was okay. It was the compassion and true care in his voice that helped draw me back to reality.
After seeing to my sanity, he told me my phone had been ringing the entire time. I heard ringing all right, but it was not the phone. I looked at him like he was crazy, but glanced at my phone to see it lit up. On the other end, was the voice of my panicked host, who had been staying in the Omni North building across the way. She had witnessed the hit on my room, but didn’t see me in the room after. The bartender helped me to a wall for support as my hostess made her way over to the main lobby.
I called my nephew later to let him know I was alive, and asked for the phone number of our local TV station. I wanted to let the weatherman know that there was no warning for this tornado and that no one should ever complain when their regular television programming is interrupted. They thought I was kidding, as no one had heard about the tornado yet. It had blown out the CNN Center next door to the Omni Hotel and news was slow to disseminate.
All in all, I was thankful that the tornado hit at this meeting. I had a meeting hostess with me for pretty much the entire convention, but climbing the stairs to the 15th floor to gather my belongings in the destroyed room was beyond the call of duty. As I neared the room, I could feel my internal reluctance to go back in after my near-death experience. She walked ahead of me, observing glass embedded perpendicular into the wall and a ceiling entirely collapsed onto the bed and floor. She stepped over the rubble and damage in the center of the room and turned. With tears in her eyes, she said, “I have no idea how you survived this.”
I am almost certain surviving what I did was an intervention from the Lord Himself. And I am grateful. The Hinman Meeting staff was truly amazing in their care for us all, putting aside their own shock and going above and beyond for their guests.
Everyone has their own story from that night. I heard of a bus full of dental spouses that was lifted to one side. How calmly, one of the spouses from Oklahoma informed the spouse sitting next to her that they were about to be hit by a tornado, and that she should duck.
They weren’t in my hotel room.
In the end, many were there. Many had their own experiences. Most were on the ground or on other floors. My experience lasted slightly longer than most, as I was at the widest part of the tornado. The top of the tornado, on the top floor. It quite literally ripped through my body and my hotel room.I spent the night with my hostess in her room. She had double beds and I was thankful. I really did not want to be by myself. Ultimately, we couldn’t sleep, so we investigated the damage around the hotel. After an hour of sight seeing, I finally collapsed into a few hours of exhaustive sleep.The convention was cancelled, and flights out were reserved fairly quickly. The exhaustion (and emotions) overtook me at the airport security. I had left my laptop and then missed my flight while getting it back. I collapsed at the gate in a bucket of tears to a very helpful and sympathetic gate attendant who put me on the next flight.
Even slight movement from my finger hurt that next day and the pain was even greater the day following. I have never been more thankful for having a hot tub. After seeking specialists, the ringing in my ears finally stopped in June, though I sustained a 26% hearing loss in my right ear and nerve damage in my left. The internal damage in my back took a couple of years to get straightened out. And now, I can predict pressure drops as accurately as a barometer.
The following year, my mom panicked when I left to speak at the same meeting. I,
however, was not worried. I now took my red ruby slippers with me in case of an emergency to each of my presentations. The hotel’s top floor was still closed due to damage, which did not surprise me.
As much as I have written in my lifetime, I have never written the story about that night. And as I write it now, I’ve had to take several breaks when recalling that night. I never anticipated having post-traumatic stress from this experience, but every spring storm is just a little unnerving. Staying aware of potential storms and being prepared are normal activities now, whether at home or on the road.
Thinking upon that night ten years ago, I cannot express enough how appreciative I am to the Hinman meeting for their care, and to my hostess for her companionship and support. I am not sure there is a take-away to this blog. Perhaps the take-away this time was for me – that after ten years, I have finally written about that night. And to respect the storm.
Always respect the storm.
