"Earthquake!!" Stop, Drop, and Roll

I live in a location that is partial to earthquakes . . . . LA has earthquakes . . . I was in a quake that shook the earth under my cheap black office chair. Wow that's almost too hard to comprehend, who would think coming to grasps with something that average would be so difficult. Earthquake is defined by dictionary.com as “a series of vibrations induced in the earth's crust by the abrupt rupture and rebound of rocks in which elastic strain has been slowly accumulating,” or “something that is severely disruptive; upheaval.” Accurate . . . but who are we kidding; an earthquake is when the ground shakes like a blender trying to chop a set of cutlery, the vibrations shake your skull giving your brain a spanking worse than your dad’s iron palm, and shards of debris and falling earth pierce through your body like a knife through jello; thus you either get a shitty pina colada with brain damage and open wounds or a building in ruins with a mass death toll. It's hard to come to terms with but some even say LA is the future city of Atlantis. Something like Utah or Nevada is soon to be beachfront property (I don't know much about geography but you get the picture the mid west shall be the new west coast, wax up that surf board and get a medical marijuana prescription Farmer John).

I don't want to philosophize or complain or get all emotional and self exploratory like some would expect after an experience that could have gone much worse (5.8, 28 miles from LA not horrible); but let me run down the mundane and moronic thoughts that went through my head during this moment of "oh fuck." I'm sitting at said desk at said assistant job, tip tap typing away pissed that word documents don't read my mind like my google page as Mr. Executive and Mr. Executive Assistant saunter down the office hallway.

“Geez” I cogitate, said production backlot must have been made with the debris from the fat brittle bones of Old Hollywood executies; I can feel the ground shake as these men approach. “Criminy!” I lamely speculate, these guys are heavy its like they're driving a big rig towards me rather than casually slipping along in their business casuals. “By Golly” I deliberate, It must be the weight of Mr. Executive's sheer accomplishments and unadulterated power flowing through his body and culminating in a fantastical storm at his black “I kick ass” Feraggamo’s that's shaking this building as he walks. No. . . .. Scratch that . . . . . brain flat-lining . . . . .. You're an idiot. Seriously that is my pre-tragedy thought, "I'm a fucking idiot." You're in an earthquake and you thought Mr. Executive was Superman or some all-powerful god shaking the ground like a Mutant outcast as he approached your desk.

Next thought, "Earthquakes are real," that's right up until that point the fact that earthquakes were real somehow never crossed my mind. An epiphany of epic proportions in my little world was had at that moment: ”My brain only comprehends events that it has witnessed.” No I'm not trying to get all Descartes on you or Plato or Aquinas up in that asssssss, "I think therefore I exist," so what. My point is that according to my limited knowledge and the above stated observed theory earthquakes are now real and are officially validated in science books-- I have experienced an earthquake; they are real. Let’s put it this way: I have never been in a Tornado: thus tornadoes are a made up meteorological tragedy to try and save Helen Hunts career, never experienced a threesome (unless you count kindergarten in the "privacy tube"): therefore a threesome is a sexual nirvana your neighbors concocted at their key club, and I have never killed a man: thus killing is like eating three boxes of Thin mint cookies while a man with very large hands milks your prostate. Science doesn't matter, my observations are my reality.

Final thought/question: What does one do, and what does one think, and how does one act during an earthquake? Well I can tell you what I did, I sat and I made eye contact with everyone in my vicinity. I first glanced at said assistant sitting next to me and conversed and empathized through eye contact: “Wow these guys are heavy, shit that’s an earthquake; damn’t I grew up on the east coast and never received quake training, is it stop drop and roll? no that’s for a fire, search the brain. . . . ahh there it is, no that’s for when a “horribly misunderstood” child shoots up the school.” Then my eyes fleet towards Mr. Executive Assistant, he is calm and cool, his pulse: an even 60 bpm, no sweat on his starched blue button down. If necessary he knows he can carry two co-workers 150lbs or less on his shoulders for a half a mile, he has a pass to 24-hour fitness and has been training for such an occurrence, he has read “Earthquake Survival and You,” hell he got it signed by the fire marshal of the building. He scurries over to the doorframe and mounts it like 2 Chow’s in heat, this is a man that knows what he is doing. Finally my eyes pan over and fall on Mr. Executive himself. The blinds shake, the ground rumbles, my life does not flash, I don’t think much; I am locked on this man. I stare at his clear misunderstood blue eyes; they say, “Shit, I wanted to be a writer.” But who cares he eats dead writers as a pre-flight snack, (what does that mean? I dunno, I’m worried, me too hunny. . . me too). Well we lock eyes and we don’t flinch (well I kinda flinch, I’m kinda all flinch, I’m the opposite of Alex during the Ludivigo treatment in Clockwork Orange) I’m pure fear, maybe a bit of I wet myself and he’s all calm “what should I get for lunch today?” cool. Finally the earth quake lets up, I’m still in shock, my neck hurts and 2 hours later I’ll go blind for an hour and a half and walk around the office near tears (very true I’ll tell you bout it next week.) When it’s all over I say something like “Wow, I’ve never been in an earthquake before,” or maybe something less intelligent like “Wooooo, earthquake virgin!!!” as I wave my pointer finger in the air and address Mr. Executive and Mr. Executive assistant. But all Mr. Executive does is look at me and he opens his mouth, yet I have no recollection of the words that came out, all I know is that they were beautiful and they were something like “Blah, blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah. . . . POWER!!!!”

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