The Great Los Angeles St. Patrick’s Day Earthquake of 2014

My St. Patrick’s Day earthquake story was boring and fairly typical of all Los Angelenos, but I’ll share it anyway. It was 6:30 AM, which means I had just finished Pilates and was stretching for yoga, which I do for an hour every morning before hiking Runyon with my dog. I felt our home roll, but I managed to keep my pomegranate smoothie from spilling on our coffee table, which was purchased at an antique store and crafted by Peruvian artisans in Puerto Maldonado and would be very hard to replace if something spilled on it.

I ran for my wife, who had been up for several hours already working on her latest manuscript, a memoir about the summer she spent building an aqua duct in Central Africa.

“Are you OK?” I asked her.

She calmly put down her organic dried cherry pecan scone and said, “I’m fine, but I’m going to need to meditate for an hour to realign my chi.”

I understood.

I told her, “If there are aftershocks, I am going to try ride them out on my balance board as a calf workout.”

In my haste I had completely forgotten about our Tibetan Mastiff, Lord George. I half-expected him to be cowering in the corner, but he was quite busy communicating with his friends on Dog Twitter, which is a secret Twitter for dogs that only well-to-do people in Los Angeles have. He had just retweeted Jimmy Kimmel’s dog’s reaction to the earthquake when he went into the kitchen and fetched himself a dried cherry pecan canine scone.

I walked the perimeter of our home and checked for damage. Our BMW and Range Rover are fine. All of the security cameras are still attached and functional. A little water splashed out of the pool, so we’ll have to have the pool guy come out and replace it. A few lemons fell from our lemon tree, but that might have happened before the earthquake.

My neighbor, Kristof, came  over to the fence and asked me if we were OK. Did we need anything? Papayas? Grass-fed free-range beef? Wheatgrass juice? I told him we were well-stocked and thank you.


(This was the extent of the devastation. We’ll have our gardener Rulon clean it up later.)

I returned inside, said, “Television On” and watched some of the local news reports, which mainly consisted of news anchors describing what the earthquake felt like to them. I turned it off and logged onto Secret Drudge Report, which is a premium version of Drudge Report that reports what is actually happening in the world. I saw that we were not in any immediate danger, so I returned to my yoga stretches and my day.



Author: Joe Donatelli

Joe Donatelli is a writer in Los Angeles. He publishes The Humor Columnist.