My singular experience with earthquakes in Los Angeles was a comedic one, happening the day I arrived. Checking in to the hotel, we got to our room and started to settle in after a long twelve-hour flight, and about eighteen hours of travelling total. Suddenly, everyone in my family started feeling jet lag. We collectively realised that this was in fact not jet lag, but an earthquake. The realisation was only made apparent to us by the drinking glass on the desk shaking frantically.
My dad’s reaction was to go out to the balcony and witness what was going on, although I do not think he was expecting West’s The Burning of Los Angeles or a recreation of Long Beach 1933. He saw a man on the left of the balcony also standing, staring out nonchalantly at the view. People down below were walking with the same nonchalant nature, so my dad looks at him a little longer than typical. He then proceeds to cast his gaze on my dad and goes ‘you from around here?’ To which my dad replied ‘nope, just got here’ in a distinctively British accent.
Fig. 2 (A street view image taken of the hotel and area I stayed in during my time in LA in July 2019)
‘It’s just an earthquake, nothing to worry about.’