The first quake

We were out for dinner last night at a very tasty East African restaurant, scooping tasty lentils and lamb off of giant platters with our hands. We were in the back room, with a pretty big group of people, and all of the sudden a few of the “tried-and-true” Californians started remarking that they were feeling an earthquake.

Now, the bay area has been hit with a handful of small tremors over the past few months, and I had – through my circumstance at the time or my unfamiliarity with what it “feels” like – never yet felt one.

So, when they cried quake, I sat very still and flattened my hands on the table. Sure enough, I could definitely feel some sort of – well – quaking. It was like a really big truck had just rumbled by, and it was over in a few seconds.

Within the hour, our friend was getting text messages from his Midwestern friends saying that they just saw news about it on CNN. Turns out it was a 4.2 on the Richter scale, and the epicenter was 100 miles deep and pretty far away in the east bay.

Of course, the quake sparked quite a few lively conversations about whether or not all these tremors meant “The Big One” would be coming soon, and the likelihood of such a massive disaster.

Our friend Cat leaned over and told me that she hopes I have an earthquake survival kit at the ready (which I don’t) and that we should make a neighborhood plan to meet somewhere in the even that the city is decimated into piles of smoldering rubble.

Now I am no alarmist – and am in fact more like a “cynical realist” – but even so, I might just throw some bottled water, granola bars, map and dog food in a bag … because I guess you never know.