Let Them Feel Quakes

There I was, sitting at my desk, feeling the sharp glint of the computer screen piercing my eyes like a toothpick in fresh baked brownies and trying to ignore the dull ache in my hand veins that was perpetually growing- all in all, it was a pretty normal day. So normal. Too normal.

I was about to turn my head to see who was messing with the blinds next to me, when it suddenly got even louder. Before I even had the chance to comment, my computer screen began to shiver and my cubicle started vibrating.

I quickly glanced over to my coworkers and we all began exchanging looks and questions.

“Do you feel that?”

“What the hell…?”

“Is that an earthquake?”

As quickly as we had asked the questions, the rumbling stopped dead. It was then that I decided to spring to my feet and held a pose like Marcel Marceau holding an imaginary giant ball.

“Shouldn’t we head for a doorway?” I squeaked.

Though we had no idea for sure, we felt fairly certain we were in no immediate danger of the building collapsing. Still, everyone was still tense and nervous, waiting for a second round of shaking.

I looked out the window and noticed a small collection of people milling about outside the building. Even farther away I saw an even bigger crowd of people who had moved a considerable distance away from their offices.

My fellow fremps began frantically calling their loved ones. Ironically, of all days, my phone had slipped away from me and was being held by the kind Samaritan who had found it. As I discovered from my coworkers’ several attempts, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The cell service was immediately clogged so calls weren’t able to get through.

Instead I hit the Refresh button on my computer every 5 seconds trying to see if there was a report up about what happened. On about the 11th time we finally began getting some details.

An earthquake had hit the east coast, an incredible rarity, centered in Virginia and spread upwards towards New England and downwards well past the Mason Dixon line. It was pretty crazy. And certainly scary. But it was actually kinda cool in a messed up way, too. Here I was, thinking that I was going to have just another Tuesday, hoping the time would pass quickly, when something that may never happen again in my lifetime was suddenly foisted into my lap. Life is truly unexpected that way; and that’s pretty cool. I just hope the next time something like that happens I react in a way that is just as cool- rather than impersonating a dead French striped shirt-wearing mime from the 1940s.

The Shift Continues...

...So we made it to Joe's parents' house, and though we had a great weekend, my mind and stomach were in knots, fearing the moment we would have to, once again, get behind the wheel.

When Sunday finally rolled in we gathered up our things (or most of them for me anyway- I was so concerned with the drive I blindly packed and ended up leaving a decent chunk of my toiletries behind- sorry again about that Mr. and Mrs. G!) and headed for our first stop to visit Joe's grandmother.

The drive was fine for a little while, although trying to keep up with Joe was a chore since my car had so little acceleration it felt like I was towing a Boston Whaler behind me.

We arrived at Joe's grandmother's for a visit, and because they could sense my frustration, Dylan and Joe agreed that Dylan would take over driving my car so I could just relax in the passenger seat. I tried to, but even with Dylan's smooth confident handling, I still became a wreck.

We left Joe's grandma's just in time to hit a wall of torrential rain. After I had nearly nibbled my fingertips to the bone and we had gotten clear of the storm, we had a brief respite. I was actually beginning to enjoy the ride when all of a sudden the jerking and surging that we had experienced on the way up returned, and with a vengeance. It continued for the remainder of the drive, and while we wondered if it was safe to continue driving suddenly the “check engine” light lit up.

Once again my anxiety returned, waiting for the car to veer into a guardrail or start smoking. Dylan, being more reasonable, phoned his friend who works on cars to ask him about our situation.

“Yeah, dude, her car is doing this massive acceleration and up shifting-thing, and then it downshifts just as violently, especially when I take my foot off the gas. And the check engine light just went on. Should we be concerned?” he asked, calmly.

Essentially his friend explained that as long as the car was still running, and since we were getting close to home, we ought to just keep going.

With Dylan managing the steering wheel like an expert cowboy on a fussy mustang, and me fretting like an old Southern belle stereotype, we finally managed to roll into Maryland and, at last, right in front of our house.

Sure, I was still freaking out about what the cost would be to repair whatever the hell was wrong with my car (later on I was informed it had something to do with the throttle control and a bad part that was telling the car to accelerate and decelerate a lot faster than it was supposed to), but I was so grateful we had made it home safe I was thanking the car gods all night. And Dylan, too.

Losing my Shift

I hate cars, sometimes. They're expensive. They can kill people. They cost money for EVERYTHING. They give you cramps in your back and butt after a while.

The worst is when you are faced with all of those problems at one time. Like I was on a recent trip to visit Joe's family.

I was excited to get up there- I rarely get the chance to visit with my work schedule, especially in the summer. The one thing I was sorta dreading was the drive.

Now, I have never made claims to be a good solid confident driver. In fact, I often grip the steering wheel like a mountain climber grasps the rock- for dear life.

But, it's a pretty and steady drive, and watching Joe do it so many times, I was certain I would be fine. And since our friend Dylan was going to drive up with me, I felt even better.

The first couple of hours were fine- smooth sailing except for a patch of heavy traffic. Once we passed that, though, the drive was flying by. Until we hit hour 4.

It was nighttime by then, and as Dylan and I quietly conversed, I suddenly noticed my car doing this harsh acceleration and then immediate deceleration. It scared me a few times, but I was trying to not let my fear show to Dylan. But he didn't need to see my face to know something was wrong.

"Wow, is that you doing that or the car?" he asked, innocently.

I then explained how I had had that problem for some time now, but that when I had taken it to the shop they didn't seem to notice it. They had given me a new battery which had helped- up until this moment.


Freaked, but determined to get to Joe's parents' house, we kept going. We finally got to the local roads, and as soon as I rolled to the first stop light, my car stalled. Thankfully she started right back up again, but Dylan and I still exchanged looks (and prayers) that we would make it to the house.


Happily, we did- but the car drama didn't end there...

I'm a Loser, Baby...

How very neglectful of me, blog, to have not paid you a visit in almost a week and a half. But summer fun does take up the time I take writing. Plus, I need those summer adventures so I have something worth writing about. Something like this past weekend...

You know, I love gambling. Well, I should be specific- I love slot machines: the anticipation of seeing the numbers or images line-up, the excitement when you hit a bonus, and the suspense as you wait to see your winnings. I love it.

I also HATE gambling- when I'm losing.

I'm a bit of a sore gambling loser. When I'm playing back and forth, winning back what I lost, the novelty is enjoyable. However, when my luck turns, and I suddenly see my amount dropping lower and lower, my mood does the same. But I'll explain with more detail-

This past Saturday a few friends and I all traveled up to Atlantic City for the night, in celebration of another friend's birthday.

The drive was smooth with the accompaniment of good friends, good music, and good conversation. We arrived and even managed to all have a drink in the SandBar and jump in the ocean before hitting the casino. My mood was as high and bright as the sun in the sky. But oh, it would not last.

We ate dinner and finally began trolling the casino floor. While some split off to hit the tables, I walked around looking for a slot machine that enticed me. I settled on one and began playing. I was doing pretty well at first; won back, and then some, of my original cash. I quickly cashed my ticket, put back my original amount and played with the extra....until that suddenly ran out.

Trying to shrug it off, I could hear the voice that so many gamblers must hear- "eh, I'll win it back," and decided to dip back into my wallet. Almost in the blink of an eye I saw my money dwindling. With every spin I kept expecting to see a sudden jump, a life saver to bring me back. Instead, I watched in horror as my credits disintegrated. I was crestfallen; and it wasn't even 8 p.m. yet.

I looked around at my friends all earning back even more than what they put in. The happier they got, I'm not proud to admit, the grumpier I became. Determined to be a winner also, I broke one of my biggest cardinal rules- I went to the casino ATM. I told myself I just needed a little more in order to win back my losses. Of course, that didn't happen, and I found myself in an even bigger financial hole.

I was in such a rage I stomped outside to the boardwalk, with poor Joe trailing behind me to calm me down. We sat on the beach, watching the dozens of seagulls hovering around the lights of the boardwalk, and breathed in the cool ocean air.

"Don't be so upset," he said, softly. "So that money is gone- so what. Don't let it ruin your time while we are here."

He was right, of course, and I had no right to be mad at him or my friends. I was mad at myself- for my stupidity, weakness, and greed. I also remembered that there were plenty of times I walked out of a casino with cash in my pocket, but that can't ALWAYS be the case. Because sometimes when you are a loser you appreciate more when you ARE a winner.