As many of you know, a ginormous storm struck the city of Chicago on Thursday. Only now can I fully report the harrowing events of that night.
It was a bright, sunny day in Chicago. The heat was beating down on us as we travelled to the Law School campus to buy K's books. Even as we rode the L home, there was no sign of the trouble to come.
We got home, and I started doing the dishes that had piled up from the morning. After a few minutes, rain started to lightly sprinkle the window by the sink, and lightening flashed somewhere in the distance.
Before I could remember whether it was true that lightning can strike you through the pipes in the sink, the sky exploded, pounding the house with sheets of rain and driving winds. I decided to stop doing the dishes.
A car alarm went off behind the house, and I opened the door to see if it was ours, and the wind blew the door open. I walked out on our porch, confirmed that the car was in good shape -- then I noticed that it was raining from the ceiling, and I saw that the trap door that leads to the roof was gone. I braved the wet ladder to find the trap door gone, possibly for good.
In front of the house, hurricane-like winds threatened to knock down trees and powerlines, and the power went out. K, fortunately, was on the phone with C, so she didn't notice the danger we were in.
We were forced to cook on the gas stove without the benefit of a timer or even electric light, but somehow managed to get some sustenance. It was when we sat down to eat that we noticed: water was coming in from the window -- but it was closed! Thinking on our feet, we grabbed some old towels and layed them carefully in front of the window, soaking up the dripping torrent.
Fearing a flood, we opened up our emergency plan from Baltimore. Without the Huxtables' SUV to tow our car to the outskirts of town, most of the plan was hopelessly out of date. Fortunately, we salvaged some parts of the plan and packed Kayla into the giant blue Rubbermaid container to float her out to safety. Getting her in wasn't easy, as she didn't seem to trust the container's seaworthiness, but we finally threw some treats inside and she stopped struggling.
We had a hard time dragging the container down the stairs and out the door, but we finally made it outside into the lightly drizzling storm. Trees were down and other people's cars were crushed. We managed to float the container and Kayla over the puddles forming on the streets and pushed on, carefully stepping over wet leaves and broken branches, to reach the Whole Foods.
We picked up a Red Eye newspaper box and threw it through the plate glass window, startling the employees and customers in line at the registers. K ran through the aisles, grabbing ice, artisanal cheeses, environmentally friendly facial moisturizer and small-batch craft beers. I stood by the window with a shard of glass to ward off the criminal element. Everyone else there, obviously in shock from the disaster, stood and stared at us as we loaded up the container, trying to keep Kayla from jumping back out, then heaved it back outside through the broken window.
The rain was picking up again by then, and we decided to go back inside. We dragged the container, now much heavier with all the provisions, back up the stairs and locked our doors to keep out looters.
With no power, no cable and no phone, we had no word from the outside world. How long before the storm would pass? Had the city completely broken down? When would the president send in the army to restore order and rescue us?
Tired from our adventure, we threw the ice in the fridge and freezer to protect the artisanal cheese and chill the beer, then decided to go to bed. We huddled together in fear, eventually falling asleep to the gentle sound of the rain falling against the roof.
You can tell by this post that we survived that terrible night. Let this be a lesson to you: Make sure you update your emergency plans, and keep a clear head. It could happen to you.
It was a bright, sunny day in Chicago. The heat was beating down on us as we travelled to the Law School campus to buy K's books. Even as we rode the L home, there was no sign of the trouble to come.
We got home, and I started doing the dishes that had piled up from the morning. After a few minutes, rain started to lightly sprinkle the window by the sink, and lightening flashed somewhere in the distance.
Before I could remember whether it was true that lightning can strike you through the pipes in the sink, the sky exploded, pounding the house with sheets of rain and driving winds. I decided to stop doing the dishes.
A car alarm went off behind the house, and I opened the door to see if it was ours, and the wind blew the door open. I walked out on our porch, confirmed that the car was in good shape -- then I noticed that it was raining from the ceiling, and I saw that the trap door that leads to the roof was gone. I braved the wet ladder to find the trap door gone, possibly for good.
In front of the house, hurricane-like winds threatened to knock down trees and powerlines, and the power went out. K, fortunately, was on the phone with C, so she didn't notice the danger we were in.
We were forced to cook on the gas stove without the benefit of a timer or even electric light, but somehow managed to get some sustenance. It was when we sat down to eat that we noticed: water was coming in from the window -- but it was closed! Thinking on our feet, we grabbed some old towels and layed them carefully in front of the window, soaking up the dripping torrent.
Fearing a flood, we opened up our emergency plan from Baltimore. Without the Huxtables' SUV to tow our car to the outskirts of town, most of the plan was hopelessly out of date. Fortunately, we salvaged some parts of the plan and packed Kayla into the giant blue Rubbermaid container to float her out to safety. Getting her in wasn't easy, as she didn't seem to trust the container's seaworthiness, but we finally threw some treats inside and she stopped struggling.
We had a hard time dragging the container down the stairs and out the door, but we finally made it outside into the lightly drizzling storm. Trees were down and other people's cars were crushed. We managed to float the container and Kayla over the puddles forming on the streets and pushed on, carefully stepping over wet leaves and broken branches, to reach the Whole Foods.
We picked up a Red Eye newspaper box and threw it through the plate glass window, startling the employees and customers in line at the registers. K ran through the aisles, grabbing ice, artisanal cheeses, environmentally friendly facial moisturizer and small-batch craft beers. I stood by the window with a shard of glass to ward off the criminal element. Everyone else there, obviously in shock from the disaster, stood and stared at us as we loaded up the container, trying to keep Kayla from jumping back out, then heaved it back outside through the broken window.
The rain was picking up again by then, and we decided to go back inside. We dragged the container, now much heavier with all the provisions, back up the stairs and locked our doors to keep out looters.
With no power, no cable and no phone, we had no word from the outside world. How long before the storm would pass? Had the city completely broken down? When would the president send in the army to restore order and rescue us?
Tired from our adventure, we threw the ice in the fridge and freezer to protect the artisanal cheese and chill the beer, then decided to go to bed. We huddled together in fear, eventually falling asleep to the gentle sound of the rain falling against the roof.
You can tell by this post that we survived that terrible night. Let this be a lesson to you: Make sure you update your emergency plans, and keep a clear head. It could happen to you.
1 comment:
Ok, this was fucking great.. a goddamn Whole Foods riot!! HAHAHAHAHAHAH! Chicago is good for your creative juices my man.
Who needs to steal malt liquor and bedsprings when you can get tofu and microbrews! RAAAAAAARRR!! WHHHHIIIITE RIOT, I WANNA RIOT, RIOT SOME MORE!!
Loving it,
MVS
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