I’m writing this from Bemidji, Minnesota, where we are storm-stayed following hockey games in International Falls, Minnesota and Fort Frances, Ontario.  I know there are a lot of non-Midwesterners who read North Dakota Nice (thank you to all, near and far) and I’m not sure if you think we get stuck in various places due to winter weather often or never.  For me, it’s never; the last time was 18 years ago when we were blizzarded into Saskatchewan at Christmastime, and I’m not sure that one really counts because we were at my in-laws’ house and we just decided to…not…leave.

Kyle’s latest storm-stay was more recent; he had to stop overnight in Kenmare, North Dakota after a hunting trip ten or so years ago.  After several hours of white-knuckle driving, he finally threw in the keys and got the last room at a hotel on the outskirts of town.  He was starving but the only restaurant was closed due to the storm, and the WiFi wasn’t working meaning he couldn’t watch Netflix on the iPad (data was precious back then), so all he could do was sit in his room and think about being hungry and away from home.  In that case, “not leaving” would have been the better decision.

In both of those cases, and in our current circumstances, Kyle and I went through the five stages of storm-stay emotions.

STAGE ONE: Denial.

“The highway is closed from Crookston to Grand Forks,” a parent said as we waited for the puck to drop on Sunday morning.

The weather was not a surprise.  We had driven out of the same storm that was socked into Grand Forks and had actually discussed canceling the trip prior to heading the four hours north.  A closed highway didn’t mean we were entirely blocked off from home; a side road, called the KT Road, was technically always open – although it was a single lane and notorious for blowing over with snow.

“That’s okay,” I said.  “The blizzard warning ends at noon.  By the time we play the game and get back to Grand Forks the system will have passed and the roads will be open.  Plus, there’s always the KT Road.”

As an aside, the raison d’etre for pushing forward with the trip was because hockey weekends in the sister cities of International Falls and Fort Frances are notoriously AWESOME.  The Cantilever Hotel is awesome.  The local establishments (A bar with free hot dogs and karaoke?  Win.) are awesome.  The people are super-duper awesome – as an example, one of our players broke a skate blade on Saturday night.  The assumed solution, swapping blades with a teammate, fell through.  With fifteen minutes to go before gametime, the Fort Frances coaches and parents mobilized.  They dug through their cars for skates and blades.  They called the owner of the hockey store to see if they could get him to open.  In the end, a coach went home and found some workable skates and even had them sharpened, saving a very sad-faced 15-year-old and further cementing our deep love for the town.

The hockey game concluded.  The skates were returned.  The weather, meanwhile, had not improved.  The blizzard had intensified and the warning had been pushed back several hours.  The highway was still closed.

“A bunch of us have booked hotel rooms in Bemidji,” a dad told me.  “Just in case.”

“I’ll tell Kyle,” I said.  “But I still think it will clear up.”

STAGE TWO: Bargaining.

We packed up the car and left Fort Frances.  According to the DOT cameras, the roads were fine.  According to in-person anecdotes from the Grand Forks 10U girls team who had played at 8 AM in International Falls and hit the road right afterwards, North Dakota’s “No Travel Advisory” was less a suggestion and more a mandate.

“KT sucks,” one 10U mom texted.  “We went 10 MPH the whole way.  Don’t bother.”

“Let’s do this,” Kyle said.  “We’ll book a room in Bemidji to be safe and if the weather is good when we get there we can cancel the room and keep going.”

I booked the room and we pressed on, repeating Kyle’s plan over and over.

STAGE THREE: Anger.

Two hours and countless repeated mantras later, the blizzard warning had been extended to midnight.

“Fart,” Kyle said, except that he didn’t use that word.  He called one of the other dads on the team.

“What are you guys going to do?”  He asked.

“I don’t know,” said the counterpart dad.  “What are you guys going to do?”

“Fart me, I’m going to go to the hotel and decide,” Kyle said.  “Give us another few minutes to think.”

We pulled into the hotel parking lot and watched the other families on our hockey team unload their cars.

“What do you want to do?”  Kyle asked me.

“Keep going,” I said.

Next to us, a hockey family from a different Grand Forks team pulled into a parking spot.

“We were on our way back from Duluth,” the dad told Kyle.  “And we’re all staying.”

Kyle put the car in park.  We walked into the lobby, past the front desk, and to a wall of windows overlooking the frozen lake.  Through the swirls of snow poked the top of a sign that read, “No lifeguard on duty.  Swim at your own risk.”

Kyle turned to me.

“We’re staying,” he said.

STAGE FOUR: Depression.

I sank down onto the couch and stared out at the lake and made a mental list of the reasons why I didn’t want to stay in a hotel, starting with laundry.

STAGE FIVE: Acceptance.

As I sat there feeling sorry for myself, the counterpart dad ambled up, jolly as can be, holding a bottle of beer.

“Now we can watch the football game!”  He said.

We watched the end of the Patriots football game.  The kids swam and spent hours in the indoor-outdoor hot tub (half of the hot tub was indoors and the other half was outdoors and the whole thing was split by one of those walls of strips of plastic like at the grocery store) and made Tik-Toks.  We went to the attached Green Mill and watched the Chicago football game.  Even more families from other teams showed up, turning the restaurant into a de facto suburb of Grand Forks.  It ended up being a lovely evening and the right decision, although don’t tell the weather that or it will happen all the time.

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I call the photo above, “Storm-stayers readying to go to the Green Mill.”

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I wasn’t on North Dakota Today this week because of the holiday (and the storm-staying thing).  Last week, we talked about three volunteers helping out Northlands Rescue Mission, my Nice People of the Week, as well a new book about following your passion. (Valley News Live)

The Awesome Foundation has awarded its latest grant to an author ready to finish her children’s book. (Facebook, found via Oops Only Good News)

The Eagles are taking to the water for the 15th year in support of Matthew’s Voice. (KVRR)

Kids!  It’s time for the annual PBS KIDS Writers contest for those who are ready to answer the question, “What does America mean to you?” (Williston Herald)

Fargo now has its first-ever addiction recovery program for teens. (Valley News Live, found via Oops Only Good News)

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