How I survived the Great Oklahoma Earthquake of 2010, and lived to tell about it
Read Time:3 Minute, 45 Second
At nine in the morning on October 13, 2010 I was on the phone with a really nice guy I had recently sued.
“What do these papers mean? What am I supposed to do?” the amiable old fellow asked.
“Sir,” I explained, “I can’t give you legal advice. The Rules of Professional Responsibility are clear on that. If I represent one party, I can’t give another party legal advice.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Whoa!” I exclaimed. My computer monitor flapped back and forth. The bookshelf in the corner of my office rocked. The expensive Chinese vase on top of the book shelf jostled and danced. The floor swayed. The disorienting event went on for what seemed a quarter of a minute, which is a very long time to wonder if the world is coming to an end. “Earthquake!” I said to the Defendant.
“What?” he asked.
“Earthquake. Do you feel it?” I asked, laughing.
We can handle twisters here in Oklahoma. When the sirens go off, self-respecting Okies mix a strong drink and stampede for the front porch to check out the action. Earthquakes are a whole different matter. Earthquakes aren’t supposed to happen in Oklahoma.
When an earthquake does strike (which is never), we freeze, dart our eyes around the room and say something really clever, like, “What was that?” and “Earthquake.”

Unlike most Oklahomans, this was not my first earthquake. About eighteen years ago I was sitting in an armchair, smoking a cigarette and drinking a rum and coke, watching TV in my host families’ living room in Costa Rica, where I was a study abroad student. I remember feeling kind of bummed out, because I was bored, and it was a Friday and there was nobody to hit the town with.
Utter boredom was instantly replaced by complete horror. There was a sound, like an explosion, that came from deep under the ground. The floor felt like it lifted a foot catapulting me, cigarette and rum and coke out of the wing back chair and to my feet. The floor stuttered up and down violently; none of that gentle back and forth rocking that is relaxing in comparison.
The initial thunderous boom was replaced by a steady roar that sounded like the hounds of hell being unleashed on earth. I started running. I don’t know why I was running. I didn’t know where I was running to. I just ran, for dear life.
I high stepped it, like a barefoot man dancing on hot coals, down the middle of the street with my cigarette clenched between my teeth and the rum in coke in one hand, with my other hand clasped over the glass to prevent spillage. I heard shouts coming from either side of the street. “No, gringo, no!”
I had reached the end of the block by the time the massive trembler had stopped. I stood looking around me, dazed and confused. A cute little old lady stepped from underneath her portico and approached me. “Gringo,” she said. “Don’t be stupid,” she said pointing to the swaying power lines directly above us. “Never run out into the street when there’s a trembler.” With eyes as big as saucers I nodded to affirm that I would never run like a mad man down the middle of the street in an earthquake again.
“Idiota,” she said under her breath, shaking her head, as she disappeared back into her house.
* * *
The ground quit swaying back and forth. Miraculously, the vase on top of my book shelf did not come crashing to my office floor. I continued to explain to the old fellow that I was prohibited from giving him legal advice. He seemed to be taking the fact that he was being sued, and that I couldn’t really tell him anything about it, extremely well.
I heard one of our secretaries yell, “What was that?” The other secretary yelled, “Earthquake!” I jumped on Facebook and wrote “Earth quake!” wondering if “earthquake” was spelled as one word or two.
I got off the phone with the pleasant old Defendant. I stood from my desk and went to the break room, filled up my coffee mug and ate a donut. With sugary goodness rolling around in my mouth, I wondered how long it would take before someone attributed the seismic event to President Obama or God.
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Earthquakes in Oklahoma, it’s definitely a sign man, just like the 3 inches of snow we had last winter. Earthquakes usually comes in clusters. The nut jobs will be praying like loonies this weekend.
I would like to hear the sermons in some of our thousands of churches this Sunday.
I stay where I am depending on how much the ground is shaking. Having been through several ground shakers, I’m tough and won’t move for less than a 6 pointer.
Unless I’m in the house with my kids, I ALWAYS run outside when an earthquake hits. To hell with conventional wisdom it’s natural to get the hell out of a shaking building.
BUT only when your kids aren’t nearby.My brother in law ran out of his house once during a quake, he was standing on the front lawn when his wife came out of the house carrying the two little kids,looked at him with disdain and said “You forgot about us?”
ROFLMAO!! “Gringo,” she said. “Don’t be stupid” she says to you while I imagine you are holding a drink and wearing a Hawaiian shirt and sandals made of hemp.
That was a funny post! Sometimes I wonder how you ever made it out of Costa Rica in one piece.
I am pleased that you like it. I had fun writing this one. I was immortal when I was in Costa Rica.