My Weblog: Weather Watchers--tales from the road

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:(Cool huh?The cover of the first Killer Nashville magazine! But Love it! But that's not what today is about.)

Talk about "killer." I don’t have to tell you what we’ve all been going through, right? The New England Femmes are snowbound, and snow crazy. Dear readers, it is NUTS. I just had to drag Jonathan off the second floor roof, where he had the “great idea” that he’d shovel off the four feet of snow. Not in this lifetime, bub.

In my days as a general assignment reporter, blizzards (and hurricanes and other weathers apocalypti) were the stuff of newscast ratings. And when there was a dire forecast, I remember getting out the most elaborate storm gear—for a blizzard: long johns, camisole, t-short, thermal shirt, down vest, down jacket, inner scarf, outer scarf, Hood. Inner gloves and outer gloves, and don’t get me started on the socks and boots. We had those little shaker packets of magic chemicals that get hot—and we’d pack ourselves with them.

You’re in the newsvan, chugging to whatever location, raising the mast to get a live shot. I remember many times, the microwave mast bending so acutely in the windy gales that I worried the van would tip over. We’d dash outside, get broll of the snow and the shovelers, and the wind in the trees, and the whiteout conditions, get sound bites with the poor residents of wherever—then dash back to the van, write the story, edit in the van, then beam it back to the station. (You need a pencil, too, for taking down names and notes, since a pen won’t write on wet paper.)

When the show started, we’d leap out of the van, do the five minute (or so) live shot, all bright and brave, and dash back inside. I remember afterwards, curling up in the backseat, cold to the core, SO cold, so cold I would think I’d never be warm again.

We’d pray for coffee. And then for bathrooms. The best possible assignment was the airport. The airport had never-ending stories—not only the conditions and the cancellations, but all those travellers, each with their lives disrupted by Mother Nature. I loved that, actually, hearing what each person thought, finding those who were stoic, or outraged—the ones who took it in stride and the ones who felt as if the universe was conspiring against them, personally. The airport also has food, coffee, and bathrooms. Heaven.

There are more pitfalls than cold and ice for a TV reporter in a blizzard. You not only have to report the “news” of the storm—you also have to look good. Having warm boots is the key to survival, but having a good and flattering hat is also key. You can’t look like a goofball, and it can’t shade your eyes. Very high degree of difficulty.

One of my favorite weather live shot memories—well, I have two.

One was in a hurricane, years ago. We managed to get to Cape Cod, it was raining like crazy, torrential, and blasting wind, 90 miles an hour or more, and I remember it was freezing, but that can’t be. Well, I think it was spring, so maybe. We must have all been completely soaked. We had a crew of three—the live-shot engineer/vandriver, the photographer, and me, the reporter. It was after the 11 pm news. We’d had several live shots, and we were exhausted, soggy, and starving. But wherever we were was deserted, locked down, everyplace closed. We didn’t have to be on again until the morning news—five am. So we had to get up at 3. We were going to sleep in the van, but we needed food! The photographer said wait—my cousin’s summer house is somewhere around here. We called the cousin. He told us where the key was. We got into the little cottage, put all of our wet stuff in the dryer—how did we do that? I can’t remember. I’ll find food! I said. Which was sort of a hollow promise, since what did I know?

I figured they’d have spaghetti, right? But no. The cupboards were incredibly bare. There was a can of tomato sauce, though. In their freezer, I found hot dog buns and some kind of cheese. Hurray. I made grilled cheese on toasted buns, and put the heated sauce on top. It was SO delicious! We grabbed some sleep, and in a couple of hours ,we were out again.

After that, I never covered a storm with out tons of food. Granola bars, almonds, and those little wax-wrapped bonbel cheeses. Which I think are good forever, somehow.

Once at the airport—in a raging storm. We were outside, pelted with snow and sleet, but I’d just done a live shot with a really good taped package, and a thoughtful and clever and newsworthy intro and outro, I signed off, and then thought—wow. I am GOOD. I just did a terrific story, I know my stuff, I picked the right profession. Just hen the producer called in from the control room. I took the call, ready to take my atta-girl accolades.

Great job, she said. But next time—think about water-proof mascara. You kind of look like the guy in Kiss.

Granola bars, almonds, bon bel—and waterproof mascara. Stay cozy—er, traditional—you all! And do you watch the weather on TV?

Comments

Hurricane Bob, late August 1991, Cape Cod?

Posted by: Margaret Turkevich | February 17, 2015 at 04:39 AM

Great to read about - glad it was you and not me experiencing it. The "guy from Kiss" is not really your look.

Hey! Love the cover!

Posted by: Sally Schmidt | February 17, 2015 at 08:04 AM

Margaret..huh. Could it have been? Wow. Possible! Were you there?

Posted by: Hank Phillippi Ryan | February 17, 2015 at 09:59 AM

Yes, Sally, I am thrilled there are no photos!

Posted by: Hank Phillippi Ryan | February 17, 2015 at 10:00 AM

I was there for Hurricane Bob, cooking everything from coffee and eggs to spaghetti and meatballs on a charcoal grill during our 5 days without power. Saving all the details for a short story, or even a book.

Posted by: Margaret Turkevich | February 17, 2015 at 10:29 AM

Oh, so wonderful, Margaret! We should have come to YOUR house!

Posted by: Hank Phillippi Ryan | February 17, 2015 at 11:20 AM

great stories, Hank!
stay safe -- and warm!
sandy gardner
[email protected]

Posted by: sandy gardner | February 17, 2015 at 11:51 AM

I love the weather reports and miss the ones from Logan. They don't do anything like that out here. Oh I take that back. They do that during the monsoon and haboob seasons. No. Sorry. Have to do a double take-back. They point the rooftop cameras out across the desert and show you the approaching haboob. They do the same with shots of lightning moving across the valley as viewed from the mountains. Once in awhile a reporter drives up Mount Lemon to film snow or the flooded dry washes around town. That's about it. Get me out of here.

Posted by: Reine Carter | February 17, 2015 at 12:04 PM