Naked Tornado Drill

Once upon a time in the early ’90s I caught a “love” piece on a morning talk show. Two young women who’d penned a book were describing signs that a relationship was in trouble. They advised men that when their girlfriends no longer come to bed in the nude, things aren’t looking good. I almost certainly scoffed at the information. For some reason, though, I still remember the tidbit.

In the late ’90s I was living in Germantown, Tennessee. That’s where rich and wannabe-rich Memphians tend to live. (I was neither but that’s another series of posts.) It’s also where lots of tornadoes of the deadly variety seem to touch down. I lived there between ‘93 and ‘99 and in that time tornadoes killed people in Germantown on at least two occasions.

One night in the Spring of ‘98 the tornado sirens woke me from a sound sleep. Germantown’s tornado history and the fact that my room had several large windows inspired me to climb from bed and seek shelter in the hall. I remember feeling a flash of concern for my girlfriend and our tiny basset hound puppy.

I found the puppy in my girlfriend’s lap. She was seated on the floor in the hall, riding the storm out, such as it was. I remember being mildly amused that she’d chosen to save the puppy, but hadn’t bothered to wake me. A smarter man might have suspected, then and there, that something was wrong with “us”. She was even wearing a cotton nightie. I didn’t get it though, until some months later when she summarily ejected me and the by then hefty hound from her life. Live and learn.

2006: Goodbye and Good Riddance

For the most part, 2006 sucked pretty badly for me. I won’t recount the lows here and now. Instead I’ll tell you a little about my New Year’s Eve. It was fairly representative of the year as a whole.

There was but one must-do-mission on my plate; pick up Mom from the airport. Seemed simple enough. Having picked up many people at many airports over many years, I learned long ago to call and check on the flight’s status prior to departing to meet the plane. Actually I checked Delta’s web site, which indicated Mom’s flight was right on time 40 minutes prior to its scheduled arrival.

Once at the pitiful, and I’m being kind, Mobile Regional Airport, I checked the electronic flight information screen and it too indicated that Mom’s plane was minutes away from landing. A few minutes later Mom’s flight data scrolled off the top of the screen. Mom’s plane, however, wouldn’t touch down for nearly an hour and a half. There was no corrected info on the flight information screen. There was no announcement over the public address system. Just lots of waiting and staring at other confused rednecks.

Finally, an hour and a half behind schedule, we departed the pathetic Mobile Regional Airport. We hadn’t traveled two miles when Mom informed me she had to “poop”. I asked if she wanted me to find a bathroom, or perhaps a tree, but she said she could make it home. Mercifully she was right about that.

Prior to leaving for the airport I’d planned on picking up Churches chicken for supper. Mom said she could make it, so I pulled into the drive-through and assumed the third place in line. From the car I noticed there was one customer at the counter inside. 20 minutes later we exited the parking lot. Mom was squirming pretty good by then.

Well, Churches cheated us out of our biscuits and peppers. After the long waits at the airport and the drive-through, not to mention Mom’s pending poop, we neglected to check our order until we got home. Apparently Churches and Delta use the same customer service consultants.

Later, between 8 pm and midnight, I heard at least 100 gunshots in the immediate vicinity of the house. It pales in comparison to what I experienced in the hood in Memphis back in the 90s. That total ran into the thousands, but most of them were fired right around midnight. Here in Mobile, it peaked around 10. Go figure, but don’t go outside.

For my yesterday to have been a truly accurate reflection of my 2006, I’d have needed to total the car, have been car-jacked, and/or been a victim in some sort of terrorist attack at the ridiculous Mobile Regional Airport. Anyway, that’s the day and year that was. Here’s hoping for a turnaround in 2007.