Some of you may remember my post a few months ago wherein I received a letter from author Laura Caldwell and telling me she read my review of her latest book (I believe I said something along the lines of "Caldwell's descriptions are cliché (she describes eye color as exotic), and boring (she describes a window as "white and coated with paint" - thrilling!)"), and in return for my panning she demanded I buy her a beer. Fair enough.

Last night Laura and I finally planned to meet up at the newly opened restaurant Perennial, at the intersection where Clark, Lincoln and Wells meet. Walking to the restaurant my aunt called me. "Josh! There's a tornado warning!" "Okay." "No, I'm serious, where are you?" "I'm walking down the street. I'm going to meet someone for a drink." "Well get inside quick. And don't sit near the window." "I'm sure I'll be fine." After all, this is Chicago. When was the last time a tornado touched down within city limits? Right?

There's this "thing" at the corner of Clark and Armitage which I've always referred to as The Jetson Birdhouse, though I've never been sure what it actually does or why it's there.

Last night I discovered that it gives off the siren for tornado warnings, which is what it started doing about 20 seconds after I got off the phone with my aunt. I quickened my pace, the restaurant now in my sight. "What's that sound?" a guy walking past me on the street asked. "Tornado sirens," I replied confidently, as if I was an expert.

About a minute later I walked into Perennial, sat down at the bar and ordered myself a beer. The bartender set the beer down in front of me, then looked past me and said, "Holy shit." I turned to see what he was looking at and saw that a full size storm had started out of nowhere. Patio furniture flew around outside, trees looked as if they were on the verge of being uprooted, and the floor to ceiling glass windows shook a bit.

Patrons and staff alike stared at the scene, watching a storm unlike anything many of us had seen before. Out of my trance I heard "Josh!" It was Laura Caldwell, walking up to me and giving me a hug. Turns out she'd gotten here earlier and was just in the other room. But our 'how are you' chat was cut short as restaurant staff started informing everyone that we needed to make our way down to the basement. A handful of people were resistant ("But I just got my dinner!" was overheard), though slowly but surely everyone started filtering out. We were all led out a side entrance, through the lobby of the hotel the restaurant was in, and into a florescent lighted hallway leading down. As we started descending into the cinder block tomb I said to Laura, "Just for the record, I came here and tried to buy you a drink."

As for what happened next, you'll just have to wait 'til tomorrow to find out. (Spoiler alert: We live!)