Touch Fuzzy, Get Dizzy

Fortunes certainly do change quickly. The last time we posted was about 5 days ago and things were going gangbusters. That is to say, we were having the best goddamn time of our lives. But then again, when you’re drinking free alcohol with Perry Farrell and seeing Radiohead and Broken Social Scene (and Girl Talk and Octopus Project and etc.) play for free its hard to not to be having an unbelievable time. And at the time it had all seemed too easy. A couple of carefully placed half-truths had earned us backstage access at one of the biggest festivals in America, doing things we formerly only wished we could do. “It can’t be this easy” was the mantra of the day. We joked back and forth that such good luck couldn’t last forever, karma would have to bite us in the ass eventually, and we would pay big time for having so much good fortune.

Sometimes it sucks to be so right…

We left Chicago on Monday afternoon heading towards Yellowstone National Park, which is in the northwest corner of Wyoming. The total drive is about 21 hours or so and we decided we would stop about half way in South Dakota and pick up the rest of the trip the next day. But before we could even get out of Illinois, Elliot and I noticed that the sky was starting to look strange. The color was a sickly sea foam sort of green, the kind of color you’re generally warned about in Earth Science class as a clear sign that the shit is about to go down. Thinking nothing of it, we drove on anyway. Then the rain started, first as a light shower. Then in sheets. Then in sheets blown sideways by the wind so thick that we could only see about 10 feet in front of the car. I noticed that a road sign nearby was shaking violently, more or less being ripped loose from its bolts. Then the wind picked up even more, and all I kept thinking of was that flying cow from the movie Twister and trying to remember all of the tornado survival skills I had picked up from tv (never stop under a bridge, lay in a ditch if you’re caught on the highway, an oncoming tornado sounds like a freight train barreling down on you).

At this point it seemed pretty obvious to get off the highway, so we pulled off into a truck stop and hid out inside. People had already started gathering inside the truck stop and there were maybe 15 or so of them sitting around when we walked in. The tv was playing the local weather, describing the current tornado warning in effect in the county which we happened to be in. They advised that the warning would be over in about 30 minutes or so, so we got comfortable and tried to wait it out. The tv then switched back to what had been on before the breaking weather bulletin, which happened to be American Gladiators (as if this situation needed to get any worse).

I started to get antsy as I usually do, so I decided to look around at the various products in the truck stop. A lot of the time these kind of places have some super wacky stuff, so I was pretty excited to venture around. I walked passed a Dale Earnhart Jr. commemorative clock and a pastel picture of Jesus with a light-up frame and sort of met eyes with a guy who was standing in the middle of the aisle. Since this was middle America, I took it that he would probably be friendly, considering that’s the going stereotype as I understand it (you know, New Yorkers are interesting but assholes, middle of the country folk are nice but boring). I looked up at him again, having diverted my gaze away from him earlier since eye contact with strangers is weird for me (another New York thing). Thinking it might be nice to kill some time talking to somebody, and the weather naturally being a relatable topic, I said to him

“Some crazy shit outside, huh?”

…

No answer. In fact, not only did he not answer, but he glared at me as if I had just punched his pregnant wife in the stomach. Maybe I just gave off that New York vibe that people seem to hate in those parts. Maybe he was just a dick. I don’t know, but in any case, lesson learned- follow the old New York adage: walk fast, look down at the floor and under no circumstance unless absolutely necessary do you talk to anyone you don’t know.

The rain kept on coming and the lighnting got progressvily heavier ( my dad would later tell me that he heard on the news there were over 100 strikes per hour). The wind passing under the awning for the gas pumps howled in that clichéd scary movie way, and it actually kind of freaked me out. Then the power went out. Just for a few seconds, but it made me really nervous. I wandered around the store again, this time looking for the best places to hide when the tornado ran us over (I think it was the “trucker’s only” tv lounge). I imagined what it would be like climbing out of the rubble, arm torn off at the shoulder but still cursing myself for having survived when so many of the other people didn’t make it (in your doom fantasies you never take into account the idea that you might be one of those people…)

I tried to look calm on the outside and was managing to do a decent job while I practiced my survivor’s speech in my head. We killed the rest of the time by staring out the window or playing arcade games. The rain lightened up, we got back in the car and kept driving. Behind the storm clouds, the sun had been setting and it was visible now, with the expansive nothingness of farm country revealing more of the sunset than I usually get to see. Then Elliot pointed out that there was a full rainbow to our right. A complete arch which, when you think about it, is something you don’t see too often outside of post cards and Lisa Frank trapper keepers. It was kind of nice, and I tried to take it as a sign (as little as I believe in that sort of thing) that hard times were over and it would be smooth sailing again, just like Chicago.

Sometimes, it sucks to be so fucking wrong…

-jason

(next entry: Sturgis Biker Week, the worst wild west town in the world, car troubles, and the absolute terror that was Yellowstone National Park.)