The Ferris Wheel and a Tornado

(To celebrate the 4th of July, tomorrow is an open post of your favorite Bell’s Memories.  Today, I share mine.)

“I don’t like the look of those clouds,” I said.  I looked toward my left.  Low-hanging clouds swirled above the Zingo.  Had I looked right, I would’ve seen the tornado.

April 24, 1993 started as a nice spring day.  Clear blue sky and comfortable temperatures.  By 8 p.m., tornadoes destroyed more than 100 buildings, killed 10 people and caused around $100 million in damage.

On that same day, Paula, Mark, Tasha and I attended a company picnic at Bell’s Amusement Park for Mark’s company.  Paula, Tasha and I were friends from work.  Mark was Paula’s husband.

We did the amusement park traditions:  rode all the rides, devoured more calories than is safe for any human and spent too much money on games to win crappy little toys.  After feeling nauseous from the combination of the Zingo roller coaster and a bag of cotton candy, we wanted a ride easy on the stomach.  We chose the Ferris wheel.

Mark, bored with his co-workers, had gone home.  That left an odd number.  I prefer to visit amusement parks in even numbers so everyone can ride.  Paula and I went on the Ferris wheel.  Tasha waited that one out and parked on a bench.

As we reached to top of the wheel, we noticed storm clouds approaching from the west.  Growing up in Oklahoma gives you ability to feel tornadic storms.

“I don’t like the look of those clouds,” I said.  I looked toward my left.

“Me neither,” said Paula.

“We’re fine.  As long as there’s not a major temperature change…”

The temperature dropped.  The wind picked up, it started to rain.   Paula and I wanted off the ride, now.

“Hey!” I yelled to the ride operator.  “Get us off this thing!”

He emptied the ride, but each time our seat reached the exit, we lifted up again.  Then, the tornado sirens sounded.

We were soaked, angry and panicked.  In the meantime, Tasha stood under a canopy and looked east.  She watched a tornado drop out of the clouds.  Had Paula and I looked toward the right instead of the left, we would’ve seen the tornado too.

Either there’s a delicate balance to unload patrons off a Ferris wheel, or we angered the operator.  We yelled things that made no sense.

“Let us off here you monkey hole!  I’ll sue your face off! If I get off this alive, I will furnable your gooble!”

See what I mean?  None of that made sense.

Paula and I were the last off the ride.  We calmly walked in a uniform manner … we ran to Paula’s car, hurried in and switched on the radio.  Tornadoes had touched down in East Tulsa.

We haven’t been on a Ferris wheel since.