We had quite the sports odyssey in March 2006. Unfortunately, it ended during a flash flood in Dallas. It was bad enough that we wrote this about it:

I’ve had flights delayed by weather, been caught in a snowstorm in Iowa City and been nearly undone driving through fog in Rochester, Minn.

But a recent trip to Dallas to cover NCAA men’s basketball topped any weather-related snag I had ever had.

There was heavy rain when the games started Sunday afternoon, but it hardly seemed epic. That changed not too long after Texas finished off North Carolina State, when a reporter in the media workroom uttered the words, “They’re evacuating the Renaissance.”

The rain had caused flash-flooding. I secretly thought I might have outsmarted everyone, though. The Renaissance was the official media hotel, but since I was only there for one day I was staying elsewhere. With my work done, I darted outside, notebook covering my head, and tried to catch a taxi back to my hotel.

“Can’t go there,” I was told. “Roads are flooded.”

Then a strange instinct took over. I hopped on the media shuttle to the Renaissance, not knowing where it was located. The shuttle displaced a police barricade, drove through water at least 2 feet deep and brought us to the hotel doorstep. I looked around and realized we weren’t too far from my hotel. But still, no cars could get there.

I wandered in the parking lot - the part not underwater - for 15 minutes. Another storm was said to be approaching in 45 minutes. So I started walking.

The first street brought water up to my knees. Then there was dry land all the way until the street I needed to cross to get to the hotel. That water, it turned out, was upper-thigh deep. But with my work bag slung over my shoulder, I pushed through it and into the hotel, sloshing through the lobby as onlookers gasped. Hungry, I wandered into the hotel restaurant. The one man who made it into work served me all he could — chicken wings and chicken strips. He is my new best friend.

There are obviously far more devastating acts of nature folks have been forced to endure of late. The roads cleared by morning and I caught my flight, so in the end, this turned out to be little more than a bizarre inconvenience and a story to tell. But I do hope that next time I’m on the road, I come back with an article and dry pants. Is that too much to ask?

Obvious question: Worst travel story ever for you?

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