Libris Britannia 4/science library(b).zip/science library(b)/PROGRAMM/SHAREWAR/3900A.ZIP/STARGAZR.EXE/STAR2.TXT

Text File | 1992-08-14 | 6KB | 108 lines

Funneling Through To Indianapolis

By Ric Larson

As a native Detroiter, I've seen many tornadoes, rainstorms,
hailstorms, and firestorms (oops, I'm sorry, that's another
subject!). I didn't expect much in the way of weather from
Indianapolis, aside from the typical sauna-like heat and gray
skies, which we fun-loving Midwesterners refer to as suicide
skies. But whoa baby, God must have been in a real foul mood the
night we arrived, or He'd been on the job too long.

I landed along with my colleagues from SHAREWARE UPDATE at
beautiful and congestion-free O'Hare International Airport on a
flight from San Francisco. First of all, I was tickled pink to be
at O'Hare again. If there is anything that can go wrong at an
airport, it always seems to be at O'Hare and always when I'm
there. I had an inkling something must be wrong because the sky
was darker than my present financial situation and it was only 3
o'clock in the afternoon. Most flights were canceled or in the
process of being canceled due to tornado warnings in the area.
So what else is new? I thought. Tornadoes were invented in
Chicago, along with deep dish pizza, so we would have something
to eat before we got sucked through a plate glass window.

Our flight to Indianapolis was canceled and the tickets were non-
refundable, so we had no choice but to rent a car. The rental
companies were deluged with deranged businessmen looking for a
way to get to where they were going so they could close that
career deal. We ended up with a Buick LeSabre that the clerk
guaranteed would easily fit six people. A Buick LeSabre? I can
see a Roadmaster or a Range Rover, but a LeSabre? No way. I own a
1990 Skylark which is comparable and there isn't a way on God's
green earth that six people can fit into it COMFORTABLY. Anyway,
we squeezed ourselves into the Starkist can and made our way to
Indianapolis.

We proceeded through Chicagoland at the breakneck speed of a
tortoise, inhaling the bus fumes and trying to endure the wicked
humidity. Before we knew it, we saw the " Welcome to Indiana"
sign and in only 160 miles, sitting cheek to cheek, we would be
there. The countryside was, how should I say, sparse, but the
weird Bud Sadler made the trip a laugh a minute. (Ask him
sometime about Tourette's syndrome). I thought I heard rumbling
sounds coming from the car, but I realized it was the collective
sounds of our stomachs begging for Hoosier food. We stopped at a
down-home place called Grandma's Restaurant and Truck Stop.
Grandma wasn't there but the simulated spaghetti dinner was. And
boy, were we in luck, it was all-you-could-eat night. Somehow
they forgot to drain the water from the spaghetti before they
added the sauce. Maybe there was a water conservation policy in
this county. After savoring this feast of gastronomical delight,
Tom Knackstedt decided to freshen up in the men's room. Tom
didn't leave Grandma's with a good impression because someone
stole his $200 prescription sunglasses. I'd like to have been
there when the thief tried them on and found they were
prescription. I think Tom would've liked to have been there too,
only with a .44 magnum.

Then the real fun began. On our way out of Grandma's, the light
show started. Like I said before, I've seen lots of storms in the
Midwest, but this one was Grade AAA, one that definitely
impressed my Western friends. Magic Veil all the way. 

The sky was lit up like night air strikes in Baghdad. In fact it
reminded me of a Pink Floyd concert I once saw in the 60s. The
lightning bolts were absolutely riveting, long and violent. At
times it looked briefly like daylight, I could even see cows.
Believe me they were bummed. We kept cruising in our rolling
lightning rod, when a bolt struck the pavement just inches from
our back bumper. Thank God that car had a good suspension,
because we all jumped up in unison, smacking our heads on the
roof, and crashed down again into seats that felt like you were
sitting in a big hand. Then the rain and hail started, as if the
lightning wasn't enough.

We finally arrived at Adam's Mark. Bud and I checked into our
room about 10:30 PM and immediately became extremely thirsty. We
decided to go out and find a store that sold malt beverages.
Before we left we noticed that the television station we were
watching said that there was a tornado warning in our area, just
before it abruptly went off the air. I assured Bud that this
happens all the time in this part of the country, and that we
should not allow an act of God to prevent us from completing our
mission.

As we were trying to drive to a store, the trees, it seemed to
us, were growing in a strange position. Like they were on top of
a magnetic field or something. They were bent all the way over
and were shedding their limbs on the roadside. We saved tire wear
on the car, though, because the wind was blowing so hard we were
driving on two tires instead of four. Finally, we found a place
called Elvin's Curve Inn that sold the beverages we were looking
for. Elvin's looked like people curved in there a few too many
times in the past. The patrons were mean, tough-looking pool
sharks with tattoos that said Dad, with an arrow through the
heart. And they were the women.

The odyssey ended when we arrived back at the hotel to see people
standing and milling about. They stared at us with incredulous
looks that said "Are you guys nuts or something?" Bud and I went
up to our room to quench our thirst. We didn't find out until the
next morning that the hotel evacuated the other guests to the
basement while we were gone. Hey, we didn't know.

I can't wait to go back to Indianapolis next year. Maybe there'll
be an earthquake or something.