SAA Ep. # 47: Shaken, Not Stirred

When I was a really little girl, like so little that I don't remember it anymore and have to rely on my mother to relate the story to me in an embarrassing fashion, I was jumping on the bed with my older sister (who probably put me up to it).  We were happily jumping on the bed, when suddenly, the earth started shaking.  And according to my mother, my sister and I freaked out because we'd caused an earthquake just by jumping on the bed.

Don't jump on the bed, kids. 

Especially not with your shoes on.

Actually, I grew up in central KY, which is apparently in a major seismic zone called the New Madrid.  I'm not sure how it got its name, but just hearing "New Madrid" kinda makes me want tacos.  Maybe the scientist who named the seismic zone was eating enchiladas or something, and he was like, "Ooh.  I should name it after something Spanish.  I know!  Let's call it El Nino!  ...on second thought, nah!  No one would EVER name a natural phenomenon THAT!  I'll call it...NEW MADRID!"  (Just to ruin the mystery and fun, I'll go ahead and let you know that according to Wikipedia, it was named New Madrid because it caused a pretty major earthquake in the early 1800s in New Madrid, Missouri.  And New Madrid, Missouri was founded by the Spanish.  But I like my enchilada scientist story better.  Hmm...Taco Bell is open late, right??)

So, the earthquake that happened when I was so little that I can't remember it?  The fault wasn't my sister's or mine.  It was the fault of a fault. 

I remember back in fifth grade, they kept saying that there was going to be an earthquake.  We had about a gazbillion earthquake drills, which involved climbing under our rickety desks, rolling into a ball, and covering our heads with our hands.  That would protect us from an earthquake, right?

Oh, public school system of the early 1990s, you were so adorable.

I remember the big day when all the news people and geologists and seismologists and paranoid schizophrenics were telling us that the earthquake was definitely going to strike.  There were only thirteen people in class at school that day because about half the parents realized that a crawling under a rickety desk, rolling into a ball, and covering heads with hands was NOT going to protect their child in the event of a major earthquake.  My parents probably realized this, but since they were employed by said public school system of the early 1990s, what could they do?  I went to school. 

And we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

No earthquake.  I was relieved.  Why?  Because they had built up this earthquake to be the biggest, scariest thing ever.  It was all the teachers were talking about for weeks and weeks.  We had all those drills, all those preparations.  It scared all the students half out of their wits. 

And it didn't even happen.

I don't live in KY anymore.  I live in NC where no one ever really even thinks about earthquakes.

Except, yesterday, there was an earthquake in Virginia, and people down here where I live felt it.  Where was I for this major, life altering event?

Walmart.

Or driving home from Walmart.

I remember being at a stop sign, waiting.  And I kinda felt my car shake a little.  I just assumed that it was my car shaking, because, hey--it does that.  It wasn't until I got home and checked facebook that I saw everyone talking about an earthquake.

Dude.  I missed it.  I wonder if it's pathetic that I'm THIS bummed that I missed out on an earthquake.  I have lived through two earthquakes--but I don't remember one of them, and I didn't even feel the second.

Because, let's face it.  My car probably really was just shaking.

And, honestly, if I had been home to witness the earthquake, I probably would have just thought it was good old "Jackhammer Man" coming back for more.  Jackhammer Man has been coming to pay us a visit quite a bit in the past few days.  My apartment building is like 115 years old or something, and for some reason, my landlords thought it couldn't go another year without putting some ventilation of some sort under our floors.  So Jackhammer Man has been coming early in the morning to loudly make large gaping holes in the foundation of my apartment. 

So if you missed the earthquake and, like me, are bummed out about it, just come pay me a visit some random early Tuesday morning.  Maybe Jackhammer Man will come, and we can close our eyes and pretend we're having an earthquake. 

A very loud earthquake.

I hear Jackhammer Earthquake Parties are all the rage in Spain.  Oh, okay.  I just made that up so I could start talking about tacos again.  Viva Gorditas!  Yo quiero Taco Bell!