By Donna Morelock

But there’s not a cloud in the sky and it’s warm, I thought. It was the day after Thanksgiving. The weather forecast predicted a blizzard that night. My mother didn’t hear the forecast. I put on spike heels, and a stylish green sheath. I put five dollars in my purse. My fur coat was warm. I invited Louise. I told her about the forecast. I said, “let’s see a movie downtown.” The bus trip was fast. We went straight to the Roxy where “Houseboat” was showing. However, we enjoyed “Tunnel of Love” at the Loew’s Midland.

Wow! There was a heavy sheet of ice on the pavement when we walked outside. A woman phoned a cab, she was told there would be a two-hour wait. We shivered, held hands to steady ourselves and walked to the nearest bus stop under the Jones Store canopy. The snow was blowing. We waited for two hours. I said let’s wait at the Continental bus stop and snack bar. We left in the blizzard. A 29-year-old man walked in front of us. He was like a shield. I held on to his coat to keep my balance. We soon arrived. It appeared the whole city was sandwiched inside. There was hot chocolate and phone booths. We phoned our families.

From the loud speaker we heard, “folks, you’re welcome to stay here, it may be tomorrow morning before you leave. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” A baby cried, and the speaker said, “you said it, we’d all like to cry.” We laughed. There wasn’t a seat left to sit down. Soon most of us were on the floor. We sang songs and played games.

At 1 a.m. our bus skidded up to the door. We boarded the bus, our tall 29-year-old stranger followed. He was a restaurant owner from sunny Florida. The bus driver said, “Since I left you girls off, this is the first time I’ve been back. It’s slick!” It had been 5 or 6 hours for him to make a return trip.

The crowded bus moved slowly. An hour later we came to a stop. Some people got out and walked. A Californian complained about our Kansas City weather. He made fun of my spike heels. He had the nerve to ask me for my phone number! Soon we were moving. We stopped 3 more times. After two hours of singing at the last stop, I pulled the cord. A woman begged us to stay on the bus. We left. The slippery sidewalks were crowded. Cars were abandoned everywhere. When I came to a curbing, someone would help me make the step. We walked, laughed and shivered. After two miles we left this parade.

I stood near the register as I related my adventure to my mother. It must have been 4 a.m. when I hit the hay. For months to come I heard from my acquaintances. All of us had enjoyed relating what could have been a bad experience. Such memories!