Naptown 24 - A Blizzard in Iowa - 6. The Blizzard

A Blizzard in Iowa

A Naptown Tale by Altimexis

The Blizzard

Because the reception was being held in the ballroom, with dancing in the atrium, we needed to clear both areas of guests in order for the caterers to have time to set up for the evening festivities. The original plan had been for guests to return to their hotels and guesthouses between the ceremony and the reception to freshen up, but a quick look out the windows revealed that the weather had deteriorated rapidly during the wedding ceremony and we couldn’t exactly send our guests into what appeared to be a rapidly developing snowstorm. In fact, a quick check of my iPhone indicated that there had been a major revision in the weather forecast, and we were now under a winter storm warning and were expecting two to three feet of snow and wind gusts of up to one hundred miles an hour. In other words, while Brian and I had taken our vows, a blizzard had moved in.

“Do you think maybe we should cancel the reception and try to get everyone back to their hotels before it gets any worse?” Brian suggested.

“Nonsense,” my father said, interjecting some common sense into the conversation, and he was right, too, “it’d be foolhardy to try going out in this shit.” God love him for telling it like it was. “The snow could bury folks alive, even trying to go the few miles into town. We’ve got diesel generators - the hotels do too, but I guarantee you, we’re much better equipped in terms of fuel, food and water to deal with a lengthy power outage than they are. Putting up with three hundred guests could be a bit of ‘fun’, but we Kramers have never failed to rise to the occasion,” he said with a chuckle.

“So we hold the reception as if nothing’s happened?” Brian asked.

“Son,” my father said as he clasped his new son-in-law on the shoulder, “can you think of a better way to take people’s minds off what’s going on outside than to party it on up, inside?”

“Well when you put it that way, Dad, I guess not,” Brian replied.

My father smiled warmly at Brian, the way he called him ‘Dad’. I think he really appreciated it.

Still, we needed to find a way to clear the ballroom and atrium, then set things up for the reception while the guests were still in the house, which presented a new challenge we hadn’t been expecting. That meant taking full advantage of every other space available, from the living room, to the dining room, to the game room and the library, but damned if we didn’t manage to find a way of dispersing our guests throughout the house without it looking like we were doing so. For one thing, people wanted to see the place, and people had their interests, be it playing games with friends, or exploring our book collection, or just engaging others in friendly conversation.

As we made our preparations for the reception, the weather outside continued to worsen and before long, it became impossible to see anything but white. I remembered toughing out some pretty bad blizzards in my youth, and was glad we’d asked everyone to stay put. Going out in a total whiteout could be suicide - literally.

After a while, the lights flickered, and then they went out completely. Within seconds, the generators kicked in and the lights came back on. Our landline phone and Internet service went out as well, but at least our cellular service held for the time being. Dad made some calls to ascertain how everyone was, and found that virtually the entire town was without power. Of course around these parts, as isolated as we were, anyone that didn’t have an emergency backup generator had to have at least some source of heat that wasn’t dependent on electricity, be it a wood-burning fireplace, or a kerosene heater. Storms like these always caught some elderly widows by surprise, however, often with tragic results. I cringed thinking of that.

“How much diesel oil do we have?” I asked my father.

“More than enough for your reception and to keep everyone comfortable for a week if we have to,” he answered.

“From the looks of that storm,” I said, “we may have to.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time, Will,” my father said.

“Talk about unusual honeymoons,” Brian chimed in.

“Aw come on . . . it’ll be just like camping in, babe,” I chided my . . . husband . . . wow; it was still taking some time to wrap my brain around the concept that Brian and I were married.

“Yeah, with three hundred of our closest friends,” he chided me back.

“Oh shit, what are we gonna do for sleeping arrangements for our guests?” I wondered aloud. “There’s no way we can accommodate three hundred people at once. Even with two people to a bed, making use of every bed, hide-away and air mattress I know of in the house, you could sleep at most around sixty or seventy people, tops.”

“It may not be elegant, Will,” my father said, “but some folks will just have to sleep on the floor.”

“What if people slept in shifts?” Brian suggested. “It might not be the most aesthetic solution, for people to share bed sheets, but it sure would beat sleeping on the floor. Seriously, however, if we split the day into four six-hour shifts, we could give everyone a reasonably comfortable place to sleep for a solid six hours. We could start the first shift early . . . during the reception even. We could have people sign up for the various shifts.”

“You know, that’s not a bad plan,” I said, “and it would beat the hell over having people sleep on the floor.”

“And six solid hours in a real bed is a lot better than tossing and turning on a hard floor, too,” my father added. “You’re a pretty smart guy, Brian,” he said as he wrapped an arm around my husband. “You make me proud, son.” With that, Brian was grinning from ear to ear.

At the start of the reception a short time later, my dad explained the arrangements to all our guests.

“First of all, I want to welcome everyone to beautiful Burlington, Iowa, and to our home. We couldn’t be more proud of our son, Will, and our new son-in-law, Brian. Aren’t they a lovely couple?” Everyone cheered, which almost made me cry.

“Now you may have noticed that we’ve arranged for some cozy Iowa weather for the occasion. You know, ‘over the river and through the woods’ kind of weather, but a bit on the extreme side. We’ve been in touch with the authorities, and the storm’s expected to dump a minimum of two to three feet of snow on us, but with winds of up to a hundred miles an hour, we can expect snow drifts of up to six feet in places before the storm dies down later tonight.

“It’s often been said that we’re in the middle of nowhere, and that’s pretty much true. When this town was built, the main transportation artery was the Mississippi, and little has changed since then. It’ll take a few days before the airport runways are cleared, and a good week before the roads in and out of town are passable. Even to get from our house into town won’t be possible for two or three days, so we’re all stuck here for the time being.

“The good news is that although we’ve lost power, we have backup generators with enough diesel fuel to last us more than a week.” Looking around at the tables, he added, “We have more than enough food on hand for the duration as well, and our water comes from a well, so potable water is no problem at all. The biggest issue is how we’re all going to sleep until we can get you back to your hotels and guesthouses, and it was my wonderful genius of a son-in-law who came up with the solution.

“If we take advantage of every bed, hide-away and air mattress we have in this house, we can sleep up to about eighty folks at a time. Now those words are the key . . . ‘at at time’. Rather than having most of you sleep on the floor, the solution is to have you sleep in shifts, so everyone can sleep in a bed or at least on a mattress of some sort in comfort and in peace and quiet.

“What we’re going to do is to have you all sign up for one of four six-hour shifts, the first one of which starts in just two hours. Those of you who sign up for the first shift will want to excuse yourselves in about an hour and a half, as we do insist that you shower before bed, since you’ll be sharing a set of sheets with three other people. I know that almost no one has a change of clothing, here, but we’ve managed to scrounge up pajamas for everyone to sleep in, and we do ask that you wear them to bed, for the sake of those who’ll share your bed.

“If you’ll mark your underwear with a Sharpie, we’ll wash your underwear along with the towels while you sleep. We also have toothbrushes for everyone. I know it sounds a bit like summer camp, but please bear with us, and you’ll have quite a tale to tell your grandchildren some day?

“OK, I have four sign-up sheets in my hands here, with spaces to sign up for each available bed or mattress. These are first-come, first served. I’ll set these up on four different tables, so the early risers will know to go to one table and the night owls to another, and everyone else to one of the tables in-between. Please make sure you sign up to sleep with someone who is compatible with you. I don’t want any whining after the fact that someone made inappropriate sexual advances . . . these arrangements are for sleeping . . . not for dating.

“Now I’m setting these up in the four corners of the ballroom,” he said as he pointed to each one. “First shift, second shift, third shift and last shift. If everyone will go to one of those corners and sign up in an orderly fashion, we can then let this wedding reception begin!”

It took nearly a half-hour for everyone to sign up. Brian and I took the last shift. We figured we’d tough it out and keep everyone company until the bitter end.

Dinner was amazing, and there was not an ounce of turkey in sight! I assumed we’d be seeing lots of turkey leftovers in the coming days, but thankfully, it was not on the menu for our wedding reception. We started off with an incredible corn chowder and gourmet coleslaw that was like nothing I’d ever tasted. These were accompanied by fried biscuits - a Midwestern delicacy that might not exactly be healthy for the heart, but boy, were they ever good. Next came a Cornish game hen that was way beyond my expectations. These caterers were amazing. Jeremy had no problem with eating poultry, but David was a vegetarian and although he would eat seafood, he wouldn’t eat the game hen, so for him and a few other vegetarians, we had a vegetarian crepe that he said was outstanding.

The next course consisted of corn-fed genuine Iowan prime rib of beef, served with a twice-baked potato, string beans, and real baby carrots - not the fake kind. For the vegetarians, including Jeremy in this case, we had a choice of a salmon steak, which Jeremy chose, or eggplant parmesan, which was David’s choice. They both said their entrées were excellent. The second meat course was followed in true European tradition with a plate of greens and cheeses. Finally, it was time for the wedding cake, which was appropriately topped with two grooms!

As Brian and I attempted to feed cake to each other, Trevor sang Cut the Cake . . . man, I didn’t think Trevor had it in him to jive like that. After that, damned if Trevor didn’t keep singing with the band. He sang the traditional, “Oh how we danced on the night we were wed,” as Brian and I took our first dance out in the atrium, but then he just kept on singing song after song in every kind of style of music, from jazz, to pop, to classic rock. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t practiced with the band.

Finally, I went up to him and said, “Trevor, you don’t have to entertain us. You’re a guest. The band’s being paid for this and you should be relaxing and enjoying the evening.”

Trevor replied, “But I want to, Will. It gives me great pleasure to sing at your wedding. I’m enjoying it no end.”

“As are we all, bud,” I told him, “It’s the best gift you could have given me.”

“We do have a real gift for you, too,” he countered.

“That may be,” I said, “but this is something that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.”

Man, could Trevor ever play the guitar, and could he ever sing? Who knew?

Brian and I danced the night away as the storm raged outside. The first shift left us before the cake was even cut, but then returned to join us later that night for a little dancing and what I guess for them was . . . breakfast! By the time the third shift was getting ready to leave for bed, the storm was petering out and the sun was visible in the sky. My teenage friends stayed with us the whole time, waiting for the fourth and final shift.

Looking out across the barren landscape, Kurt said, “It’s beautiful in a way . . . all that untouched, flawless white expanse. I just hope no one’s trapped or in serious danger. As soon as the roads are cleared, I want to help check on people . . . the elderly and infirm who got caught unawares by this storm.”

“You’re a good man, Kurt,” I commented as I patted my friend on the shoulder and handed him a steaming mug of coffee. “Trevor’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have Trevor,” he replied. “This is great coffee, by the way.”

“It’s from a local coffee roaster, prepared just the way you like it. And by the way, thanks for all you said at the ceremony yesterday,” I added. “It was awesome.”

“I expect to see you at my wedding this summer, now,” he replied.

“Not even a blizzard in July could keep me away.”

Just then, David and Jeremy came up and looked out the window with us. “It’s very impressive,” Jeremy said.

“So you think it’ll take a week before the roads are clear enough for us to drive home?” David asked.

“Prolly,” I replied, “and I don’t need to tell you we’re an hour away from Interstate 74 on secondary roads, even without the snow. Once they reopen Interstate 74, and probably Interstate 80, which I’m sure was also closed by the blizzard, and maybe Interstates 39, 55 and 57, not to mention 380, 180 and 155, maybe then they’ll get around to clearing US 34. We’ll have the airport cleared long before that.”

“I thought we might volunteer to help out in the community,” Kurt mentioned to his friends.

“Sounds good to me,” Trevor said as he approached.

“Count us in,” David added.

“Will sure hit the jackpot when he met you guys,” Brian said as he joined us.

“You’re our friend, too, Brian,” David countered. “You’ve married into the family.”

“I like that idea,” Brian said with a smile on his face. “Will always spoke fondly of you guys from the very moment that we met.”

“Really?” Jeremy exclaimed.

“You better believe it,” Brian answered, “and he was right, too. You guys are special, and I’m glad I’m getting to know you.”

“It looks like you’re gonna get to know us even better during the coming week,” Jeremy commented, “but I already know why Will fell in love with you at first sight. You’re someone special, Brian, and we already love you the way we love Will.”

“Thanks,” Brian said. “I already feel a bond with you guys. It’s hard to explain it, but I feel we’ll all be friends for life.”

“That, Brian,” I said, “is something you can count on. Now let’s go find someplace where we can be alone and . . .” I bounced my eyebrows with a smile, “. . . consummate our marriage?”

“In a house with three hundred guests . . . we’ll be lucky to have any privacy,” Brian grinned.

“Well . . . notwithstanding,” David said, “How is this weather going to affect your plans for the honeymoon?”

“With classes resuming on Monday back in Chicago,” I explained, “we weren’t planning to take our honeymoon until the winter break anyway, but with Brian at my side, every day’s a honeymoon.”

“That’s so sweet, and the feeling’s mutual,” my husband said.

“Now speaking of privacy, Brian, did I ever mention there’s a place up in the attic where I used to sneak away with boys now and then?” I asked. “Let me show it to you. . . .”

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