Take me back to Tulsa

I made my first trip to Chicago, Ill. last week to help unpack my daughter and son-in-law, who just moved from Ohio. Instead of renting a vehicle and driving nearly 11 hours to their new residence, I took a flight out of Tulsa and, you guessed it, my ex-husband went with me.

The ex had never flown before, so he tagged along for another milestone (and also to help with the move). We had no problems on the flight, and a few days later, my daughter booked me a flight home.

The day I was scheduled to leave, my son-in-law warned me some major storms were not only about to hit Chicago, but Tulsa as well. Chicago had a hydrologic alert, which is similar to a flood watch here, but lets residents know if the threat worsens or turns into a warning. They offered to let me stay an extra day to avoid the incoming weather, but I told them I’d be fine.

The Chicago airport is massive, but I got through security and on the plane quickly. After everyone was accounted for, the pilot made an announcement our flight was actually leaving earlier in hopes we could avoid the storms and land before it hit. I was all for that, except I knew when I landed, I’d have to drive home in that mess.

The first hour and a half after taking off wasn’t bad. It was the last 20 to 30 minutes that you could’ve heard a pin drop on the plane. The pilot first announced we were heading into heavy turbulence, followed by a second and third announcement to not get up from our seat or use the lavatory because we were just about to get hit by the storm. The fourth announcement was basically “it’s here, hang on.”

I wasn’t the only one staring straight ahead with my knuckles clenched on the armrest. Everyone else was just as big-eyed as me and doing their best to remain calm. You could hear the rain and wind hitting the outside of the plane, and when I looked out the window, the plane and its wings were shaking. I closed my eyes while we descended with the wind gusts, and was thankful to see Tulsa’s street lights coming into view. Whew, we made it!

I landed about 9:45 p.m. and it was announced some of the luggage had slid sideways, messing up the conveyer belt and stopping the baggage from coming through. Just my luck, I was one of about five people who still didn’t have their suitcases. It was about an hour later that I got loaded and hit the road.

Well, almost hit the road. I did two loops through the Tulsa airport because it was raining so hard I missed the turn out of there. After I finally made it to the highway, I couldn’t tell one line from the next. My windshield wipers were on full speed and I turned down the radio (like it mattered) when you can’t see, hoping it would help. It didn’t. It was a Sunday night and I’d only seen about 10 cars, so I decided to take the highway as my own.

With no Highway Patrol around, I started driving down the center of the road after deciding it was my best bet. I don’t think OHP could have driven any better than I was, so I went with it. I decided if they stopped me, I was going to tell them Jesus took the wheel, and ask for an escort into Sequoyah County.

What happened to my ex-husband you ask? I left him in Chicago.