Same Room Next Year

by

Gerry Niskern

        Something woke me. I think it was the silence. The echoing waves that lulled us to sleep at night breaking below our room were suddenly quiet. Too quiet. I sensed, felt and heard something all at the same time. What was it?

        A monstrous murmur, moving closer and closer.

        A penetrating, prodigious groan of some giant, deep within the earth.

        A dull roar, but no, more than that, a feeling of tension and then…the bed started to tremble and then shake violently!

        I looked up. “No, not again,” I pleaded. “This happened on our vacation last year. It’s not fair.” My answer was snapping and popping as the ceiling moved above me. I could see brick walls swaying in a crazy dance high over my head in the pre dawn light. They undulated back and forth, back and forth. I decided it wasn’t a good time to bargain.

        The walls are going to cave in on us. We’re two floors down, in an old seaside hotel hanging over a cliff above the Pacific. So much for early, California charm.

        Complete terror shut down my brain and I told myself it was not happening. It was all a dream. An instant later I shot out of bed and dashed towards the door as my husband started for the balcony. We collided in the dark room as we both made the announcement, “We’ve got to get out of here.”

        “Come on, the balcony,” he urged. “Maybe we can get down to the beach.”

        “No,” Miss science class drop out answered. “There’ll be a tidal wave!”

        I turned back towards the hall door as he yelled, “Wait a minute. I have to find my jeans.”

        Bracing myself in the doorjamb, I screamed “Hurry up. Hurry up.” I was planning to hit the street in my nightgown whether the world was ready or not!

        By the time we reached the stairs, the worst tremors seemed to be over. One by one, trying to act casual in various states of undress, other hotel guests and we straggled out into the open space above. Believe me, the three hundred-pound guy in glow in the dark boxers was not a pretty sight.

        We stood around in the chilly dawn, arms crossed in strategic places. We shared stories and nervous laughs about our common ordeal. One fellow started laboriously explaining the movement of the pacific tectonic plate and the North American tectonic plate and how forces produce changes in the earth’s crush. I didn’t have the heart to tell him no one was listening. The men all had their attention on the blonde in the black see through teddy.

        Various thoughts kept running through my mind like, “I want to go home! Could we even get a flight out today? Would the freeways be passable?” I found myself repeating the old childbirth litany, never again, never again. This was not what I had in mind when I agreed to a natural environment vacation.

        Ken convinced me it was really over. He asked why not go back to our room? Personally, I could think of a million reasons. Later he went for coffee and rolls and we turned on the news to get the results of the quake.  We watched harried television newscasters explain solemnly in their usual pompous manner that the quake had been an 8.6 on the Richter scale, but not to worry. Then we watched them dive under their tables as television equipment fell around their heads and we felt another one!

        “I’m out of here.” I yelled.

        “Hurry up, will you?” Ken urged as we started up the cement stairs again. This time, there was a slight problem. The steps kept moving sideways when I tried to put my foot down.

        In the parking lot again, we watched people throw suitcases with clothes spilling out, into their car trunks. One driver shouted back over his shoulder, “I don’t care if they are just aftershocks!”

        We decided to walk into the village and try to calm down. The shop keepers told us that the epicenter had been inland and the beach was perfectly safe and then they told us to stay, relax, enjoy the rest of our vacation and could they wrap up that little trinket for us?

        We returned to our room eventually.  I set the world’s record for changing into a bathing suit and getting outside again. Every few minutes during the day, the beach trembled for a few seconds. Putting my hand palm down on the sand, it was a strange sensation to feel the beach moving.

        Then, as the day drifted by, the sun and surf conspired and lulled us into a calm complacency. When we checked out a couple of days later, we conferred our kids long held suspicion that we were certifiable. We both nodded in agreement when our old friend, the hotel manager, asked, “Same room next year?"