rock and rollers

Today, shortly after lunch, somebody's cell phone went off with a really loud, obnoxious ringtone. It stayed on and we were all looking around to try to figure out whose it was. Ed, with his headphones on, finally looked up to see us staring at him. He took off his headphones and looked down at his phone.
"Shit. That's the earthquake alarm."

We all ran to the door and fled down the stairs without further prompting. I am learning how to live in earthquake country. Ed's got an app which ties into a seismic service. Whenever there's an earthquake over a certain magnitude within a certain radius of the city, I think its a 5.0 threshold, it sounds an alarm. Depending on the distance of the earthquake, it gives you about a minute to two minutes head start before the waves hit. Those can be crucial seconds.

Anyway, when we got out, everywhere, people were pouring out of the office buildings. David was one of the last people out of the office and he said he felt the stairs moving as he left. The earthquake turned out to be very weak- a 5.1 originating 18 miles below the surface.

Earthquake warnings, and earthquakes, are frankly, terrifying. Out of a blue sky day, death, collapse, mayhem on a widespread scale. You never know if its going to be 1985 all over again. It's kind of like either an invisible Godzilla is going to rampage through the city, or its not.

I prefer tornado warnings. The skies are dark and ominous, and then, in the distance, you hear the eerie wail of a tornado siren starting up, and then another, and then another, in a freaky chorus. You have time to rush to the windows, like we all did in Givens Hall, and to check out the weather sites and locate votex signatures on weather mapping websites to see if there was anything coming your way.

With earthquakes, there's no time for anything except to make an escape as quickly as possible.