Well now... I've lived in Los Angeles all my life and I still hate earthquakes. Take the 4.7 shaker that hit at about 8:30 this evening for example. First, my dog starts barking at the sky. I yell for him to shut up. Next, I ask my son, “What is that noise?” He is too busy playing Xbox to answer. The sound is akin to the roaring or jets, or the low rumble of a passing freight train, only the noise is omnidirectional, and unnerving.
When the earthquake finally hit, it was not the side-to-side motion that we’ve come to expect. Instead, we lifted upward and fell back downward in a sharp motion. It was intense. My wife started to scream for my son from the back of the house. I yelled my standard, “Get under the table.” I remembered the Northridge quake where the earth was moving so much we had trouble getting under the table, and then we stayed there a long time out of fear that our house would fall on us. We all met in the dinning room. Everyone was taking at once. It was obvious that the moment had passed. We were all relieved.
I’m known among my co-works for being the fasted man under a table when an earthquake hits. I was ready to repeat the performance, but there was no need. We all took a deep breath and started to guess the size. I called a 5.3. It ended up as a 4.7. I guarantee that I will not sleep tonight. Each aftershock will wake me and keep me on edge wondering if the shaking will escalate into the big one.
My son was back on the Xbox within 5 minutes. He has his priorities straight.
