HOLY $#@&: How I Survived the Chicago Tornadoes of 2008

I should have known something bad was headed my way when I forgot my umbrella on my way to work and was greeted by a downpour of epic proportions that made me show up to work looking like I jumped in a pool. Because of that, I was sopping wet for half of the day.

Things cleared up during the day, and somehow the morning deluge was nearly forgotten.

Around 8:00 p.m. my TV began broadcasting news of tornadoes rapidly approaching the area at speeds of around 60 mph. I scoffed at my television and turned the volume up, despite casting a wary glance towards the windows just in time to see black clouds moving quickly across the horizon.

Suddenly half the sky was jet black, and lightening began flashing so quickly and from every direction that I thought bombs were being detonated. I later found out from a newscaster that lightening was pummeling the area with 15 flashes/strikes PER SECOND. Whoa.

So there I am watching Shallow Hal (I know...terrible) when the TV cuts out yet again and the mechanical robotic voice informs me that everyone within the city limits should take shelter immediately and get away from windows. I've lived in this area my entire life and have weathered through plenty of tornadoes. But that usually means scampering into a basement and hiding out for awhile. This was a new challenge.

I have never faced a tornado while living on the 17th floor of a downtown mid-level high rise, with un-obstructed views west, south, and east over the lake. I stood in my window frames paralyzed with fear and doubt as I wondered if I should really start to worry about the storm.

"Tornadoes can't hit the city" I thought to myself. "I'll be just fine up here."

Then I heard the sirens.

Never in my 5 years of living in Chicago have I heard tornado sirens go off. I didn't think they even COULD go off in Chicago. I thought is was a myth, like the Loch Ness Monster or Lindsay Lohan's rehab success.

I shut off my TV and wrenched open a window. Yup, sirens. Going off in downtown Chicago. I froze. The lightening struck all around me, illuminating the sky and reaching out like fingers towards the spires of buildings down my block. Instantly the hail dumped down from the sky, and as I looked out of the living room windows I witnessed PIECES OF BUILDINGS being wrenched from their respected places and swirl in a tornadic (I may have just made that word up) cloud in front of my face.

Let's recap:

1) Sky jet black
2) hail
3) Sideways rain
4) Pieces of buildings flying through the air
5) thunder so loud it my windows shook
6) lightening so frenetic and frequent that it seemed like God was throwing a strobe light rave
7) howling wind
8) sirens going off

Let's just say it was time to get the &^$@ out of there. I rarely panic in these situations, but it was so bad that I was dead convinced that my windows were about to blow in. I grabbed some pj pants and a tee shirt (yes, I was sitting around in my underwear), put on my flip flops, grabbed my keys and phone, and bolted for my life.

As I ran down the hallway I must have screamed the "F" word no less than 15 times in a row before I got to the stairwell. (Ed. note: If you thought I was about to take the elevator you're absolutely insane).

I called my friend A who lives within walking distance and when she answered I screamed, "GET DOWN GET DOWN! RUN NOW!!!!" and she basically dropped the phone, ran to her lobby, and hit the deck.

As I ran down 17 flights of stairs to get to the lobby I was on the verge of hysteria and my hands were shaking.

I reached the lobby where my building's pajama clad residents opted to huddle around Jason, my punk rock+combat boot wearing doorman, as if he were the key to our salvation. We watched in near silence at the weather outside the two main glass doors and listened to the tornado sirens go off intermittently for the better portion of an hour.

It was then that I looked down and realized that my pj choice was pretty poor. I was wearing what I lovingly refer to as my "Rex-Kuan-Doe pants" which are long legged pants from Old Navy that are a replica of the American Flag. Think Rex the Taekwando instructor in "Napoleon Dynamite". Yeah. Not the kind of thing you want anyone in see you wearing, let alone in public. What can I say, I love collecting guys' clothing.

Back to the story.

So I stood there humiliated by my clothing choice, listening to sirens and watching the storm absolutely pummel my beloved city.

After it was safe to return to my room, the following TRUE FACTS came to light:

1) 70 mph winds hit one neighborhood north of where I live

2) A chaise lounge chair from the 21st floor of my building (the rooftop) BLEW OVER THE SIDE and fell down past people's windows to the ground. It is nearly midnight and the storm is once again in full force (I wish I had a video camera...I cannot even begin to describe the fear I have in my heart and what I am physically witnessing outside my window). We don't know where the chair landed because no one can go outside. Hopefully it didn't fall on someone.

3) The famous John Hancock Building is two streets over from my apartment, and it is confirmed that at least one window on the 40th floor blew out from the wind/storms impact. Think about that. It was bad.

4) A mile or so out on the lake there were 100 mph winds. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that grounds for a hurricane? I know a hurricane didn't occur, but I believe that wind speed is typical in a storm of that magnitude.

So now I'm back in my apartment, alone, scared out of my f-ing mind at the shitstorm of agony raging outside my window. They said the storms and the worst of things were over, but once again, we were lied to. The rain is coming down so hard that I cannot discern the outlines of buildings outside my window. The lightening is so bad I keep thinking that I'm going to be struck dead inside my apartment. I have my window cracked so I can hear the sirens if they go off for the 8th time tonight.

I thought I was going to go to bed at 8:45 p.m. Yeah, right. What a joke.

Firetruck and ambulance sirens have pierced the night on repeat since 8:15 p.m., coupled with tornado sirens and deafening thunder.

And NOW I'm supposed to go to sleep? What. a. nightmare.

I don't know about y'all, but I'm going to be clutching my pillows and staring at the ceiling from underneath a mountain of blankets. I don't even care that it's like 80 degrees outside. I'm in survival mode. Start saying prayers now.

Coming Soon: How the events of the past weekend have cemented my title as a Homewrecker.