In Other Words
Created | Updated Oct 10, 2003
Howdy all you h2g2 readers out there! It's time for everyone's favourite advice Homo Sapien, Ms Smarts-A-Lot! This week's question comes from a reader in some state in the US1
Dear Ms Smarts-A-Lot:
I've been told that seeking shelter in a basement is the wisest thing to do in the event of an approaching thunderstorm or tornado. Is this true? Or just another one of those silly urban legends?
Sincerely,
Wind-Tossed and Worried
Well, Wind-Tossed, I know how the stories go. Seek shelter underground to avoid so-called 'injuries' due to 'electrocution', 'flying debris' or 'whirling clouds of demonic
destruction.' These are of course completely false. No doubt this urban legend came to you from someone in either Nebraska, Kansas, South Dakota, Oklahoma, or Texas in the US of A. Those crazy mid-westerners don't know what they're babbling on about2. The safest place to be in the event of, say, a lightning storm is on your roof wearing a tin-foil hat and waving a golf club in the air. Trust me.
Another common misconception is that you should stay away from windows in case high winds should break them. Again, false. Tornados know how much windows cost these days, and being the kindly natural disasters they are, cautiously avoid them. Weathermen only tell you this so you'll keep watching TV and not notice the perfectly sunny day outside while they report of cataclysmic destruction all around. A mere ratings boost.
All of this wacky hubbub about storms of course spawns from the idea that storms come from the 'sky.' Once again incorrect. Storms are like UFO's, McDonald's burgers, Richard Simmons, or babies: We don't know where they came from. All weathermen are frauds. What's all this talk of stratus... cumulo-nimbus... low pressure moving in from the
south meeting a warm front from Canada and everyone does a conga line. If anyone actually paid real attention to the weathermen, they'd know what I mean.
Weatherman: 'Well, it looks like we've got a low-pressure zone here East of somewhere that looks like it's going to cause some disturbances west of wherever. The Orioles played a great game last night and my mother is having a mole removed as we speak which should just about die down by midday so keep those umbrellas handy!'
See what I mean? Now you UK and elsewhere dwelling folk may not quite understand my words. What kind of weather do you get over there, anyway? Rain? Clouds? Crumpet flooding3? I really don't know. But over here in the good ol' Mid-west US we have THUNDERSTORMS! TORNADOES! Yee-haw, pardner. Which means most of us spend the majority of our summers cowering in the basement with our
flashlights, battery-powered radios, and if necessary children and pets, praying the house will still exist when we walk upstairs. If it does, we quickly put on our ceremonial robes, grab candles and the dog and have a sacrificial offering thanking the storm gods for sparing
us. Ha ha! Bet you didn't know we did THAT?! He he, you silly foreigners. *whew*
You may think I'm over exaggerating, but until you experience a storm in my house, you have NO idea.
MOM: 'STORM! GUYS! BASEMENT! NOW!
(And we all scuttle downstairs. Except for my dad, who completely ignores my mom and goes right on watching TV. And except for me, because I'm rummaging the fridge for anything I can fit in my arms to carry downstairs and eat.)
MOM: KATIE! GET DOWN HERE NOW!
(My mom seems to think that even though it's a mere thunderstorm warning I'm for some reason in immediate danger whereas in all actuality I have a better chance of being immediately injured by stampeding bulls.)
ME: Mom... it's sprinkling.
MOM: Thunderstorm warning, Katie! NOW!
(Let's analyse. Thunder. A completely harmless occurrence in itself, therefore a storm of thunder4 can't be all bad. But I grudgingly wobble downstairs with my 12 pack of Mt Dew, bag of Oreos, a whole roasted chicken, and the sacrificial dog. We emerge later... much later... hours after the imminent 'threat' has
passed, 'just to be on the safe side.' Let me tell ya, trying to squeeze me, my mom, two sisters, and hyperactive dog in the basement comfortably is like trying to get a pack of rabid monkeys into a shoebox comfortably; somebody's going to get hurt.)MOM: Oh no... clouds... ANOTHER STORM! QUICK! DOWNSTAIRS
AGAIN!ME: No, mom. That's just the sky getting dark. That's what happens at night.
MOM: Are you sure?
What can I say? Mid-west weather makes one a tad kooky. Especially my already slightly deranged mother. So remember, seek shelter away from windows in the lowest level of your home possible, place a hard book over your head, and pay no attention to the weatherman in front of the curtain.
Your Little h2g2'er,
