“Storm Chaser Sandi” Series Volume 3
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In late October, I mentioned the tornado watch, and it kicked off all of our usual arguments.
“Sandi, it’s supposed to be date night. You’ve been home all of 5 minutes, and you’re already leaving.”
“That’s rich, Charlie, the way you take calls 24/7.”
“Sandi, you’re always on the road for hours.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Charlie, I gave you a key to make this easier.”
“You’re going with Jonathan, right?” He no longer had to say anything else. Whenever he brought up Jonathan, it was about how I spent too much time with him or act too physically close to him.
“Charlie, he’s more of a brother to me than my two actual brothers. I’m sick of hearing about your jealousy. I mean, the last time you cracked a joke about a threesome, he told me it made him uncomfortable.”
Somehow, my two jobs were always too much, and they way I spent time off was always under suspicion.
I took a deep breath and asked the question that had been nagging me for weeks. “Why are you so worried about this? I love you, I would not lie to you.”
Charlie visibly gulped. Maybe because I’d never told him that before. I felt a twinge of guilt about my first time using the L-word happening during a fight.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I grimaced. “Charlie, my love, there’s a tornado watch three hours’ drive south of us, and I’m already an hour later than I wanted to be, and I need to check this message.”
“Fine, I’m sure it’s Jonathan asking to pick you up,” he said, not angry, more resigned. He picked up his briefcase, heading for the door.
Fine, indeed. He could cool off tonight while I chased a storm.
The message was from Jonathan, and it was about picking me up, but not at home. I’m already in KC. See you at your mom’s.
I grabbed my overnight bag, tablet, and extra battery blocks. The rest of my gear was already in the trunk of my Corolla. And then I hauled ass down the highway, listening to weather reports on the radio and online. I checked my dashcam to be sure it was recording audio as well as video. And then I tuned my communications radio to the appropriate channel.
“This is Sandi-with-an-I checking into to Prairie Net Dispatch. I’ve finally left Omaha, heading down I-29, and I’ll send distance photos as I approach Kansas City. Looks like it’s going to be an interesting sunset tonight. Over.”
My radio clicked, and the response was prompt. “Prairie Net Dispatch copies Sandi-with-an-I heading to Kansas City. Welcome to the field, and good luck out there. Over.”
I put the pedal to the metal and pulled into my parents’ driveway in record time. They lived in a north suburb of the city, in a typical split-level home with a two-car garage and one very old oak tree that I climbed as a child.
That tree always made me smile.
I texted Jonathan about my arrival, and he replied that he’d be there in 15 minutes. Mom and Dad came outside to greet me. I let them know beforehand that I needed to stay close to my radio until I signed off for the night.
We exchanged stiff hugs. There was no animosity, it was just always awkward. They both grew up in families where a parent was more likely to beat them than hug them, and I know they struggled to break that cycle with my older brothers. They never once raised a hand to me in anger, and they were generous with verbal affection, and I could be grateful for those baby steps.
I said, “Thanks for letting me drop this here, and inviting me to stay tonight.”
“Of course, darling,” said Mom.
“You’ll be careful out there,” Dad said.
“I always am, thank you.”
Dad laughed, “No, you’re not, but you go ahead and tell yourself that.”
An exaggerated pout escaped me. “Jonathan always keeps me in line and ruins my fun.”
Speak of the devil, and he appears. Jonathan’s Jeep pulled in. I quickly relocated all my gear to join him. He handed me the keys. “Usual shifts?”
I nodded.
Mom asked, “What does that mean?”
It warmed my heart that Mom took such an interest. “I’ll drive while Jonathan shoots. When we get close enough, we’ll stop and assess whether we’re safer if I’m keeping a closer watch on the radar.”
“Oh, good.”
I pulled up a radar app on my phone and cycled through the layers. “Yeah, we better get going. The squall line is firming up, and we could get a nice shelf shot before it moves into the metro area.”
Jonathan gave me a thumbs up. “Let’s go. Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Kay. See you later!”
“Bye, Mom, Dad.”
I could see Mom open her mouth to extend the Midwest Goodbye, but we really didn’t have time. I hopped into the driver’s seat and got us rolling. My parents waved as we pulled away, a little tradition of waiting until I was out of sight before they headed back inside.
I reached for the radio. “This is Sandi-with-an-I checking into Prairie Net Dispatch. Vehicle switch. Leaving mine behind and driving for Jonathan Lidell Media. Combined call-sign is now Sandi-with-a-J. Over.”
“Dispatch copies Sandi-with-a-J. What’s your 20?”
“Heading west of KC on highway 92. We’ll turn south on 73 toward the the Speedway. Over.”
If you’ve never chased a storm, it’s hard to describe exactly how much time you’re on the road. I’d already put in over two hours just getting to the watch area. And now we had another 25 minutes before we would even be lined up for the first photo of the night.
Our trunk kit held a handful of meteorological instruments connected to a laptop. Barometer, anemometer, thermometer, and so on. We also had a helium canister and a single balloon issued by the NWS, just in case we saw a significant event.
These things were secured as we bumped and rolled down state and U.S. highways. Eventually, we turned west again to approach the storm head-on.
The shelf cloud glowed ominously with the sunset behind it.
Jonathan eventually said, “Here,” and we pulled off to the shoulder so he could get the photos.
I didn’t look over his shoulder. I studied the clouds. “You get any of the green hue underneath?”
He fiddled with the settings on his camera and snapped again.
I tore my eyes away from the awesome sight, and I pulled out my phone again to monitor the radar. Radio chatter indicated two other spotter teams were coming in from the northwest, and another was ahead of us, already in the rain and rising winds.
A minute later, Jonathan was repacking his camera case to ensure he had a couple of alternate lenses and filters handy.
He looked at me. “Flank south?”
“Yeah, and I’ll keep driving. It’s not serious enough yet.”
By the time we reach the southern tail of the squall line, it was more serious. The first two severe thunderstorm warnings were issued, the closer one a couple of miles away yet.
We stopped on the side of the road again to re-assess.
“Sandi, doesn’t this system seem to be moving kind of slow for the wind speeds the other teams are reporting?”
I gave him a knowing look, and then showed him the reflectivity radar, cycling through altitudes.
“Good Lord, look at that sheer.”
“I know, right?” I couldn’t keep the bouncing joy out of my voice, “If we’re getting a tornado tonight, it’ll be near here at the southern hook.”
The wind picked up suddenly. I glanced west. “Rain will be here in a minute.” I looked back at the main line, the sickly grey clouds in the fading light, high-altitude lightning better illuminating the churning mass. Without looking at him, I leaned toward Jonathan and asked, “Time for the county roads. Ten miles closer and re-assess again?”
I prioritized my GPS in the dashboard instruments while Jonathan called in our position to Dispatch and fired up the live feed dashcam. Radio chatter confirmed another team was directly east of the hook watching the squall line come right at them. A larger town was in the other warning, and the other teams were monitoring wind speeds and rainfall there.
This one was ours.
The pavement gave way to gravel, and I had to be a bit more careful as I drove. I slowed down as the rain started pouring, thwacking on the windshield. “I’m going to stop at the bottom of this hill.”
“Yeah.”
Jonathan was getting more photos, when I pointed and asked, “Do we have rotation there?”
He took the glass away from his face and used his eyes. “Maybe.” He put down the DSLR and picked up a video camera.
I felt my ears pop.
“Oh, shit, we might be a little too close.” I spun around to peek at the instrument array. “Yeah, that pressure drop is a bit much. I’m going to take us back to where we got on this road. We can follow it from the south as it pushes east.”
We got out of the heavy rain and stopped to switch. I held the camcorder and monitored the storm while Jonathan turned us eastward. More severe thunderstorm warnings were issued. Nearly the whole squall line was covered in them.
“Oh yeah,” I said, “That’s definitely rotation, and it’s almost right over I-70. I’m calling it in.” While I did, I turned the dashcam to get a better angle.
A minute later, the tornado sirens blared, barely audible inside the Jeep with the rainsplatter. The weather radio relayed the alert. “Tornado warning for southern Leavenworth County. Take shelter immediately. If you are driving, pull over in the lowest area. Do not park underneath an overpass.” The announcement continued with the warning’s duration and other information before repeating.
I continued filming, and I hit the jackpot. “There’s the funnel!”
We called it in.
“Sandi-with-a-J, this is Dispatch. NWS says to release your balloon if it is safe to do so. Over.”
I looked at Jonathan, who was grinning ear-to-ear.
“Roger, Dispatch, that’s a tentative yes. Over.”
Jonathan muted the audio on the dashcam. “What do you think? A mile or two closer?”
He had always been the cautious one, but I could tell he was just as excited as I was. This was only the second balloon we’d ever been given approval to release. The first was prematurely popped by lightning. “If you wanna push closer, I’m with you.”
He unmuted the dashcam and hit the brakes a bit hard, making an abrupt turn back north up another county road. Even in the passenger seat, I could tell the wind was pushing harder on the left side of the Jeep, and I chickened out first. “Here,” I said, forcefully, so there was no confusion.
After stopping, I handed him the camcorder. We planned this part carefully ahead of time. He recorded the entire procedure, and I set it up. In less than a minute, I held the release cord, rain pelting my face and flattening my hair. My ears popped again, and rain began shrouding the funnel.
“Release it now!” Jonathan shouted, and I could barely hear him over the howling wind and sirens in my ears.
Up it went.
The rain shroud was dangerous. A shrouded tornado was unpredictable. Your eyes became useless, and getting away was paramount. I stood, rooted to the spot, and watched the balloon climb until Jonathan grabbed my arm and put me back in the vehicle, drenched.
And then he sped us the hell out of there.
I was shaking, cold and wet, when I reached for the AC vents to close them on my side. That was better. Jonathan called in our update to Prairie Net Dispatch and handed me a towel. “Hurry up, and get recording again, in case we catch another glimpse.”
We didn’t. We were losing daylight, and the rain blocked the view of the funnel. We didn’t even know if there still was a funnel.
We dutifully followed the line as it changed. Rotation became straight-line winds, pushing us forward on the highway. The tornado warning expired, but a new severe thunderstorm warning was issued as the storm entered the metro.
Jonathan stopped again. “Back to the burbs?”
“Yeah. Others have the city. Let’s wrap it up.” I drove. Jonathan made our final calls.
We had to drive north while the line was right on top of us. I’d been through worse, but there were a couple of moments that made me grateful we took his Jeep instead of my Corolla.
The bulk of the storm passed by the time we got back to my parent’s house.
Where a large branch from the oak tree lay in the yard.
My eyes immediately went to the roof, but it was getting hard to see in the low light. No damage there, as far as I could tell.
Mom came running out the door. “You’re back!” She threw her arms around me, surprising me, but then stepped back and made a face. “And you’re all wet.”
Jonathan laughed. “Maybe Sandi should take a shower. I want to show you and Mr. Kay this video we got. I think you’re going to be so proud of her.”
End of “Storm Chaser Sandi” Series Volume 3
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