The Earthquake Zone

Growing up in southern California has its ups and its downs. Sometimes those ups and downs come at the same time, in a big wave that rolls across the land much like any wave in the ocean. In my forty-three years in this state I have experienced many earthquakes, from the Sylmar quake in 71 to the 5.8 Chino Hills quake we had just a few days ago. No matter how strong a rolling quake becomes, they all start small. Very deceptive, these wave quakes. You never quite know if what you're feeling will grow into "The Big One"; the one quake that will turn Surf City into an island town, or if it will simply fizzle out more quickly than it started, leaving nothing more than a few rattled nerves in its wake.

One such earthquake rolled into Anaheim early one morning, beating my alarm clock to the punch.

I woke to a shaking bed. I was tired and really didnt feel like giving this quake any sort of respect so I stayed where I was, which just happened to be directly underneath a large, sliding glass window. Putting me in my place, or rather convincing me to move out of it, the quake grew stronger shaking the window above my head. I had just convinced myself that it was time to at least sit up when my roommate ran out of his room and started pounding on my door.

"Erin! Erin! Get up!" he screamed, terrified. I had never heard him sound so frightened.
"I'm up, I'm up." I answered as calmly as could, hoping to convince him that our rocking apartment was nothing to fear. That it was perfectly normal to be tossed around in your own hallway, bouncing off the walls like one of those little metal balls in a pinball machine.

When I got to my door, I threw it open and found him just reaching the end of the hallway. The sun had not risen yet, but there was enough light behind the curtains in the living room to outline my friend who stumbled sideways as the apartment pitched this way and that. His arms flew out to his sides for balance as he teetered dangerously on one foot.

Just then I heard a loud POP! that was closely followed by an electric sizzle and a blinding, phosphorescent blue light that filled the entire apartment.

Transformer I thought as the image of my friends fun house trip down the hallway was etched forever in my brain by the beautiful, deadly glow.

I began to feel real fear then. I hadnt seen an earthquake take out a transformer before. I had just a moment to wonder how much longer I was going to live when a scream from my intelligent, even keeled, rational friend of more than fifteen years cut through the panic.

"OH MY GOD! We're getting nuked!" and then he was gone, having bounced single footed around the corner into the kitchen and out of sight.

I discovered then that its nearly impossible to feel fear when you're laughing so hard you cry.