While talking to my mom on my newly broken headset I complained about the hundreds of miles ahead of me before making my way out of Kansas. Jokingly she said, "Don't wear red shoes."
"I only have red shoes," I said. Giggling to myself as I realized that I had packed red rain shoes, red sandals, and red clogs. It took me a second to figure out what she was talking about.
"Well, then don't click your heels together," she responded.
Ah. Kansas. Red shoes. Wizard of Oz....got it.
Kansas was a long drive. The sun was shining and the pastures were filled with cows wading in small ponds. About 90% of the way through the state, I noticed that the sky turned a frightening array of greys and blacks. With no shelter in sight, I drove quickly; I was thankful for the 75mph speed limit, but hesitant to even flirt with the limit as the roads became slick and the winds intensified. The weather alert warned of flash floods and urged people to head to higher ground. I continued west on the interstate hoping to leave the plains of Kansas behind in search of higher elevation and some hills as lightening burst to my right. The skies turned, the rain halted, and the clouds looked strange. The weather alert continued to warn about floods and added tornadoes to the mix; they were referring to counties and cities by name with no reference to the highways or interstates. What I gathered from the alert was that Kit Carson was one of the places to avoid.
I-70 became eerily empty and I took the first exit with lodging. I turned right off of the freeway and saw the frightening clouds ahead, with sirens going off, police and firetrucks whizzing by, and people running inside. As I turned left towards the various inns I saw a very bad sign: Kit Carson. I didn't know whether to turn around and get back on the freeway with no idea where to find the next possible shelter. A native Californian with only earthquake drill experience, I thought that seeking shelter immediately was probably the way to go.
The first inn turned us away because they had no vacant rooms where
pets were allowed. The Burlington Inn was our only option, a motel
with an adjacent Chinese restaurant. Zeke and I ran into the office
hoping to quickly get settled into our room. The woman behind the
counter took my credit card and quickly handed us a key card to room
102. She urged us to rush to the room. Zeke and I ran into our room
as the wind howled around us. We were greeted by a dead cockroach in
the middle of the room; With little other options I cleaned it up and
turned on the news. We were shaken up and even more concerned when the
news said that a tornado was spotted in our area and that people should
stay away from windows, go to interior rooms, and cover themselves with
blankets and pillows. The only windowless space was the bathroom and
so we took shelter for nearly an hour with our dirty polyester comforter resting our backs
along the small bathtub.
The television, which was on in the main room with the volume turned
up, said that it had passed. My little Toto and I dusted ourselves off
and went to the phone. My cell phone had fallen out of my bag as we
ran to the first inn, and so we were stuck with the motel's land line
making a collect call (thank you 1-800-c-a-l-l-collect). In the morning we left at 5:00 am and saw little damage out on the road. Our real-life tornado drill is behind us, along with nearly 1600 miles (which we managed to get through in under two days).
We're safe and sound and quickly made our way back to California. I ditched much of the planned site seeing after this experience in favor of getting home safely before yet another thing went wrong.
Sunrise the morning after:
