Tornado shelter

Perhaps it's a sign of how assimilated an Okie I've become that I didn't realise until a few days ago how amusing it would be to a Brit that, until very recently, we were seriously considering installing a tornado shelter in our house. The reason we eventually decided against it was that it is, on balance, probably an extravagance we can manage without. But in Oklahoma it's a reasonably standard thing, certainly no more unusual than putting in a loft conversion or installing a new garden shed would be in the UK. However, when I told this to a British friend the other day, she dissolved into hysterics (well, laughter anyway) at the mere idea.

Oklahoma is known as 'tornado alley'; in fact the film 'Twister' is set there, something I didn't know until recently. The fact is that there are tornados, and some of them can be very big and scary. I've already posted a description of a close shave I had a few weeks ago ('Tornado', 10 Feb). As far as I know, that's the only serious tornado there's been in OKC so far this year, although some more were predicted the other day which didn't materialise. So, given that you might perhaps expect to have one go through the city every couple of months while the season lasts (approximately February to November), I think it's pretty unlikely that you'd actually be unlucky enough to get in the way of a big one which would do serious damage to you, your house or car (or which would transport you to the mythical land of Oz - but that's only in Kansas, I believe). Unlikely, but not impossible.

But it's a fact of life if you live here, and my fellow Oklahomans - real ones, who've lived here a long time - are just used to it. As far as I can tell, most of them don't feel they need to go so far as to install a shelter, and are content to adopt their usual quite laid-back attitude to life; they just know that if one is about to hit they need to get in the bath, cover themselves with blankets, and prepare for the worst. This may seem odd given the facts of the matter, but to be fair, the IRA routinely planted bombs in London while I was a student in the early 1990s - I could, theoretically, have been blown to pieces at any point, and indeed one night, while in bed at about midnight, I heard a distant muffled bang which I found out in the morning had been an IRA bomb which went off a few miles from my house. But neither I nor my friends ever thought seriously about the danger. Mind you, this could have been because we spent a lot of time drinking beer, or so I recall.

So what of the tornado shelter? Well, they basically come and dig a big hole in your garage floor (that's garage, of course, not garage) into which they put a large steel box with a sliding lid, and then fill in the rest of the hole with concrete. The plan is that when the twister's on its way you descend into this box and sit tight while your house collapses around you, and several hundred tons of rubble falls on top of the box. When the danger's passed, you winch the lid open from inside and, hey presto, there you are. My parents said it's essentially the same as an Anderson shelter, which were common in Britain during the second world war.

You can find out more about them here. They have several entertaining and informative videos, including some marvellously scripted duologues between a potential customer and the cheery tornado shelter vendor: 'This being a tornado shelter, obviously it would have to take a lot of debris being thrown at it ... is there a way that you test for that?' 'Yeah, there sure is!' I was rooting for him to look crestfallen and say 'Er, no, sorry, we've never done that', but luckily Mr Tornado Shelter has an answer for every tricky sales question. I'm suspicious, though, because the customer appears to be dressed in the same tornado shelter clothes as the salesman.

The videos are persuasive, but personally I think drinking lots of beer might be a better option - certainly more enjoyable, and cheaper.

Home, sweet home

I'm currently in the UK, and I have come to the conclusion that, on the whole, I prefer it to Oklahoma.

For one thing, all my friends and family are here, and I've had a great time catching up with all sorts of people. Almost everyone in Oklahoma spends their time (a) working (very long hours), (b) raising their families, and (c) going to church (several times a week), with hardly any time left over for anything else. And most peoples' social lives revolve around these three things, particularly (b) and (c). So for someone like me, whose work involves travelling and working from home, whose family consists of a wife and a dog, and who doesn't go to church, it's almost impossible to develop much of a social life.

Also, a brief comment on current affairs. Is it just me, or is Tony McNulty's expenses claim being given a lot more media prominence than it deserves? I mean, the planet is melting, wars are being fought, the global economy is in freefall, and the British media is obsessed about the expenses of an obscure government minister?

Spring in Oklahoma

(This is the same tree which appears in the earlier post, 'Fall Colours', 3 November).

How to speak Oklahoman - a short quiz

1. What is the correct response to the greeting 'How are you?'

a) Very well, thank you
b) Fine, thanks
c) Good, how are you?

2. What should you say if you don't quite catch what someone has said?

a) Sorry?
b) Pardon?
c) Excuse me?

3. How do you attract the attention of a man whose name you don't know?

a) Excuse me?
b) Oi, mate!
c) Sir?

4. How do you attract the attention of a lady whose name you don't know?

a) Excuse me?
b) Oi, darlin'!
c) Ma'am? (pronouced to rhyme with 'Spam')

5. What is the correct response to someone who says 'thank you'?

a) Not at all
b) Don't mention it
c) Uh-huh

Clue: the answer is c) in each case.

Hairy Babies

As a dog owner, I've discovered that a common Oklahoma expression, when you want to be cute and endearing, is to refer to a dog as a 'baby'. I was in a pet store the other day buying 'kibble' (dry dog food), and the cashier asked me what kind of baby I had. I wondered if she knew something I didn't, until I realised she was actually asking me what breed of dog I owned.

Recently we've been trying to find somewhere to board our dog when we go away. Today I drove to four kennels to check them out. It became clear that the further out from the city I drove, the nicer they became. The final one I visited was about half an hour's drive south of Oklahoma City, and it was the best of all - lovely facilities in a delightful rural setting, run by an extremely nice lady. I had initially phoned them because I was very taken by the name of the establishment: 'Hairy Babies'. I imagine quite a few of my friends in the UK will refuse to believe that our dog is going to stay somewhere called Hairy Babies, but I assure you it's true. Moreover, when you phone them up, the owner answers the phone by saying 'Hairy Babies!', which is reasonable enough in the circumstances I suppose, but must be very disconcerting if you've phoned a wrong number.

Initial concerns that our dog, being a whippet, might not be considered hairy enough for this establishment, proved unfounded.