No, I’m not on the west coast this week. We had a shockingly large earthquake right here in Washington, DC.
Yes, by California standards a 5.9 earthquake is not a big deal, but by DC standards this was a huge surprise. Yesterday’s temblor, which struck down in Virginia, was the biggest quake in the state in over one hundred years. That’s all I’ll give you in terms of statistics. The news reports covered everything pretty well last night and today.
The thing is, we live in an area that rarely has earthquakes, and when it does they are generally around 3.0 – 3.9 on the richter scale. On the logarithmic Richter scale, a 5.9 quake is 24 times stronger than those rare 3.5 quakes we’ve experienced in the last many decades. The little quakes we so rarely had were little more than mini rumbles that resemble a truck driving by closely enough to shake your house. They didn’t jolt you out of your chair or scare you half to death.
See my point? Huge difference.
Also, no one knows what to do during an earthquake when the last thing they ever expect is an earthquake. We don’t train for earthquakes; we train for hurricanes and terrorism. I live within a mile of the U.S. Capitol and work within a mile of the White House. I’m much more concerned on a day to day basis about terrorism than earthquakes.
When yesterday’s quake struck, I was in my tenth floor office. At first I thought that the window washers were getting a little wild and banging against the windows. Then the jarring and jolting grew and I, along with most of my colleagues, all ran into the hallway to see what was going on. None of us was thinking “earthquake;” we were thinking bomb.
We all stared at each other, dumbfounded, in the 30 silent seconds between the end of the quake and the fire alarm, which was accompanied by that disembodied female voice telling us that there had been a fire emergency and we needed to exit the building immediately.
That fire alarm sort of solidified the terrorism fear. I had to pee, but I didn’t dare detour to the bathroom. I just had to get out of the building and walk home if I could, just to get away from whatever horrors might be out on the streets.
During that whole trek down the stairs, which slowed as we descended and more people flooded from their floors onto the stairs with us, I was thinking about what might have happened. In my mind, all that shaking was the result of a succession of explosions — the metro system had been blown up and the Verizon Center, which is a block away, must have blown up with it since it sits atop the Chinatown metro stop – a hub for two major metro arteries through the center of the city.
Yes, that was what I was thinking as I worried we weren’t getting out of the building fast enough.
I wasn’t thinking earthquake. During my two years in Los Angeles, most of the quakes we had were fairly small and were more rolling or bumping. They were not at all like the jarring experience we had yesterday afternoon. Also, they were in California.
DC doesn’t get earthquakes.
When we got to the street, we did find a rather subdued DC version of chaos. We all stood there nervously chatting in the sunshine as we waited for news and tried to get through to loved ones on phone lines that wouldn’t connect. Sirens were blaring in all directions. A dark SUV sped to a stop down the street and a couple guys in body armor jumped out and raced into the building. Seeing that didn’t help calm my fears.
Lacking information and phone connections, we found the internet connections on our smartphones did work. Through email, facebook, and twitter we found… ANSWERS.
Colleagues from the suburbs emailed that they had felt an earthquake. Twitter and facebook were abuzz with earthquake comments from far and wide. Friends from New York, Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina all posted comments that they had felt the quake. Then someone reported the magnitude was 5.9.
What a relief to hear we’d had an earthquake. The news was also quite a shock.
Holy Crap! We had an earthquake! That just doesn’t happen here.
Only, now it does.
About an hour after the quake started, we were finally allowed to reenter the building after it had been thoroughly checked for potential damage.
The first thing I did (after a quick stop trip to the ladies room) was to email loved ones to let them know I was OK, and to post similar news to Twitter and facebook.
Then I got back to work. I had a deadline to meet and hours of work ahead of me.
Sounds of chaos drifted up from the street as most of the city all tried to get home at the same time (which never works out well). The government and most offices closed for the day.
High up in the 10th floor of my building, a few other hearty souls and I got back to work. I worked such a long day that I missed the whole “nightmare commute” that the rest of the city experienced after the earthquake.
When I finally got home at 8pm, my house was fine, save for one very long crack in the guest bedroom that runs the length of the room, starting on the ceiling, then moved to the wall and all the way down the corner. I have a much tinier version of that crack in the living room, exactly below the bedroom, where the ceiling meets the wall. No other room had any cracks. I guess that’s pretty good for a 100+ year old row house in a moderately powerful earthquake.
I think the damage is just plaster cracks, but I’ll have my architect take a look.
Oh, and every picture on the walls was askew, a few fell off the walls, and a lot of things fell over on shelves. One telephone and a few things in the tiny 3rd bedroom fell off the shelves onto the floor, but nothing broke.
The new addition is fine.
