Pop! There goes my cherry!
Ladies and gentlemen, last night something AMAZING happened to me. Something people try to describe to you, but that you don't really understand completely until it's happened to you. Something some people have gotten so used to that it barely even registers anymore.
That's right. Last night, I lost my earthquake virginity.
It hit about 1 a.m. It wasn't huge -- about 4.5 -- but it was big enough to be felt all through the city. It roused me out of REM sleep, I think, because it felt to me like there were two earthquakes -- a big one and a small one -- when I think what actually happened is, in my dream there was an earthquake, and then I woke up to the real one that was causing my dream (though it felt like it was much later). The first thing I remember is praying like crazy that my ceiling wouldn't cave in. My heart didn't stop pounding for a full ten minutes afterwards. I realized right away that it was an earthquake, but by the time it was over, the adrenaline had already kicked in and I couldn't get back to sleep. Then, randomly, I was obsessed with the conviction that someone was IN my apartment, and I lay in bed in an incredibly uncomfortable position for a full fifteen minutes before moving, absolutely convinced that if I made a sound the stranger in the living room would hear it and come into my room and kill me. Interesting what a minor traumatic event in the middle of a deep sleep can do to a person.
I think they've been saying for about fifty years now that The Big One is about to hit. Presumably they mean the One that will turn Los Angeles into an autonomous collective off the coast of Baker. I'm actually okay with that. Assuming I survive the initial quake, I'm totally cool with separating my city's own particular brand of crazy from the different kind of crazy that inhabits the rest of the country. Ooo, and I bet there are more fish farther out in the Pacific. Which means more sushi. Mmmmmmmm sushi...