It was 3:30 p.m. on Wednesday, April 27, and my boyfriend, Daniel, and I were eating a late lunch while watching the tornado rip through Cullman, Ala. “If I saw that headed my way, I would probably vomit and pass out,” I told him as I watched the debris and sheer power rip through homes and businesses. I didn’t know that what was coming for us was much, much worse.

We heard the tornado warnings and the sirens blaring when James Spann, the best weatherman I have ever known, told us that we needed to head to our safe place. The warning said that the tornado would be at Bryant-Denny Stadium at 4:45pm. My safe place is the Office of Student Media, in front of the stadium, in the basement where I run my advertising staff for The Crimson White. I looked at my boyfriend and told him that I thought we would be safer at my apartment, the University Downs. But we did the best thing we could’ve done, which was pack up our dog and head to the OSM.

When we arrived, there were people all downstairs, hunkered down for the storm that was headed our way. Daniel and I went into my office and turned on Spann and watched the storm build and then finally break the surface of the clouds. So, here I was, an hour past the Cullman tornado, in the same situation that many of those people were. My mother called and warned me: “a big one is headed your way.” I watched the skycam and scanned the landscape looking for Bryant-Denny Stadium, located right behind the place that at least fifteen people, including myself, were praying to make it through. A few minutes after the skycam went out, the lights flickered and died. Four of us plus a small wiener dog were squished under my desk in the eerie silence, waiting for the sound of a train that would never come. I gripped Daniel’s hand, the cross on my necklace, and my dog and prayed that God would see me through. It was scary quiet, and the only thought that went through my mind was that I had to stay alive to answer the phone when my mother called to tell me it was over. I couldn’t bear the thought that she may never hear my voice again; so many parents were going through that.

Suddenly, we got the all clear and made our way outside, as if coming out from under a rock. I looked to my right and left and saw the statues, the stadium and Reese Phifer and wondered where in the world it went. Then we got the call; 15th Street was destroyed, gone, leveled. I thought of my apartment and the close friends and neighbors that had sought out the Downs as their safe place. “We have to get home, they need us,” I said to Daniel, and we left the OSM. The first sight coming over the hill by Taco Bell on 15th took the wind out of me. I could see all the way to Target, beyond that. It was unbelievable – total devastation. We pulled into the Downs, and I immediately found two friends and co-workers and embraced them in the middle of the road. The relief was so great, the hurt so strong, the disbelief so overwhelming. The three of us broke down for the world to see and didn’t think twice. We were together and safe.

Slowly, students emerged from their shelters, and the look of pure and utter shock was on everyone’s face. What happened? How bad is it? Who is safe? Who isn’t? If the tornado had been a football field longer in either direction, University Village or University Downs would have been leveled, and the massacre would have been the greatest student tragedy since Virginia Tech. But by the grace of God, so many parents had their student pick up on the other end.

The pain is great, and it is hard to get out of bed, but I realize that I am so blessed, and it is my turn to support the city that has given me so much. Being out there and helping all of the people helps me to cope with the loss. It makes it better to know that although there are so many that are lost, there are more that are here to help and fight.

A lot of people may have written off the student body, told us to go home and get safe, but what they fail to see is that we are home. After all our highjinks through the years, we are standing beside the city that puts up with us. This is our home, these are our neighbors, this is our city, and this is the time that we show the traditions and values we preach every day. Our tradition is built on tenacity, legends, heroes, victories, excellence, drive, pride, endurance, desire, intensity, courage, fight, spirit, focus, grit, heart, class and comebacks.

Dana Andrzejewski is the advertising coordinator of The Crimson White.