Wednesday, August 24, 2011


In my 26th floor office, it felt like a subway train derailed some 28 stories below me. Empty chairs remained perfectly still. A souvenir softball on my shelf remained still. The water in my cup barely rippled.
People panicked.
I'm not sure if it's because I've been in earthquakes, both here in New York City and in California, or I've been on dive boats that rocked so hard I thought they'd capsize, or (and this is the biggie) I went to a concert at Shea Stadium in 1983 featuring the Police where the stadium bounced so hard that I thought it would collapse, but all I know is I said "Hm. Earthquake," and went back to typing.
I was alone in the office. I hadn't been ten minutes earlier.