At 11:42 AM, on Tuesday, I was sitting at the front desk at Lakeshore Entertainment when a giant jolt hit the building, rudely interrupting my game of solitaire. It took a split second to register that I was experiencing my first natural disaster. (Not counting that Denise Richards show on E!.)
After realizing that nothing was going to slam down on my head, I calmly walked around my desk as the entire office swayed back and forth for a few more seconds. And then it was over. At least, I thought it was over, but looking at the blinds in the office still rocking back and forth, I realized that it was still happening. And then it stopped, but I couldn’t tell because I was disoriented. It was the same experience I had drinking Jager bombs last Saturday.
The whole thing lasted maybe 15 seconds. Nothing fell of the wall. The power didn’t even go out. I had always heard that earthquakes seem to go on forever. Not this one.
I called Camille to make sure she was all right. She was with a friend who started her car right as the earthquake hit. They thought something was wrong with the car’s engine.
“It was over before I even got outside.” I told her.
“Who is going to answer the phones if you’re outside?” she asked.
That was how (thankfully) anti-climatic my first earthquake was. I didn’t even get so much as a five-minute break out of it.
The news was overstated on the Drudge Report within five minutes: “Earthquake Rocks Los Angeles.” News started filtering in saying that it was stronger than most, a 5.8 in Chino Hills, wherever that is. Apparently, anything above a 5 is newsworthy, and a 5.8 can be devastating in some parts of the world. Here, it rattled some slushy machines in Pomona.
The whole event became disconcerting after I started watching the news on my computer, waiting for aftershocks. Thanks to the wonder of the Internet I learned what a “foreshock” was, a minor earthquake preceding a larger one, like say that earthquake in China that was 4000 times stronger than this earthquake.
I decided to go home for lunch to check on the dogs and make sure my Playstation 3 hadn’t shattered into a million pieces. Both the dogs and Playstation were fine. The pictures on the walls hadn’t so much as shifted. On top of our bookcase, where we keep the board games, all the boxes were still precariously stacked on top of one another.
I spent the rest of the afternoon reading and responding to text messages my friends sent me, wondering if I was okay, which I appreciate. Although I hope no one is offended if I’m ever trapped in rubble and don’t have the time to text back right away.