Many readers know that I've moved to the Bay Area. Here's my account of last night's earthquake, the Bay Area's largest since the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake.
The moment I’d long been looking forward to occurred last
night at 3:20 a.m. Here’s what I did (and didn’t) experience:
I’d been having a lousy, restless night of sleep. I’d taken
a Benadryl so I was in a fog, but it obviously hadn’t knocked me out enough so
that I was sleeping soundly.
At the fateful moment, I’d been concluding a short visit to
the bathroom. As I finished up I heard a series of popping noises. The
suddenness and general sound vaguely reminded me of a summer storm where hail commences
abruptly, creating popping noises on all that it contacts. But knowing that
such monster hail wouldn’t be possible here, my mind raced for other
explanations. Could it be kids in the neighborhood up to pranks in the middle
of the night?
Soon, I was pretty certain the sound was from the cords from
blinds striking either the blinds or windows. This seemed a reasonable
explanation because it’s often windy here and we frequently have the windows
open to let the ocean-cooled air rush in.
But then I realized there was absolutely no wind and the
night was otherwise calm. The fast-developing mystery was moving into high
gear. “What the hell is that?” I blurted to Rachel, whom I expected would still be sound asleep.
“I think we’re having an earthquake,” said the
seismic-experienced, California native. “Really?” I said. “Yes, I can feel the
rolling. It feels like we're on a boat in the ocean.”
By then, of course, it was essentially over. And my immediate response –
yea I’m a sicko – was anger that I didn’t fully experience this other worldly
event. Rachel theorized that the lightheadedness I felt, which I blamed on sleep
deprivation and the woozy effects produced by Benadryl, was because I was
standing while the house was shaking.
I opened up my iPad in search of reports that would confirm
that yes, I really just experienced an earthquake. At first, there were no
reports. Then, finally, this tweet:
So there it was. After nearly five months in California, I
experienced my first earthquake (just one week after seeing my first grass
fire). I regret that I didn’t feel the rolling motion in bed, see the blinds
moving (since it was dark), or have the presence (and clarity) of mind to know and
embrace what was happening, but at least I was here when it happened. Still,
learning that it was the
biggest Bay Area quake in 25 years and figuring that another
shaking of this size is unlikely to occur any time soon, I was disappointed. I
felt like a storm chaser who, while observing the tornado, took the wrong road
and didn’t get the best possible view.
Amazingly enough, there was not a picture out of place nor
any other physical evidence of what, evidently, was a most significant shaking.
In fact, Rachel’s sister, who was staying with us, said it was the
worst quake she’d ever felt.
