10 Ways To Tell You Overreacted to the East Coast Earthquake

From a recent NYTimes article about the events of August 23, 2011: “I ran outdoors and found my neighbor calling a friend in Virginia who also felt the profound quake.”

"The profound quake."

So there was an earthquake yesterday. At Complex, we discovered we'd experienced one via Twitter, but it seems that other people actually felt something stemming from the 5.8 magnitude 'quake that originated in Virginia. On the West Coast, earthquakes bust up bridges and pancake freeways and, you know, hurt people. On this side of the continent, our temblor...set off like five or six car alarms on our block.

Yesteday's big shake totally freaked some people out. If yesterday you found yourself doing any of the following, there's a good chance you're a punk. Here are 10 Ways To Tell You Overreacted To The East Coast Earthquake.

How could you not? It was all you could do to keep from crying yesterday as your building trembled like a daffodil in a moderate breeze. And you've already had nightmares (on a slow motion loop you see those two AAA batteries you stole from the supply closet slowly ROLLING OFF YOUR DESK). You need to be compensated for this. No one should have to experience a quake at work, the place where you're supposed to feel most safe and happy, the place in your life that's most like a warm embrace. Now you can't even listen to your favorite Carole King song without bawling.

Right...

In Florida, everything is fine and safe. Why else would all those elderly people travel there to die? Sure, they've got hurricanes and alligators BUT AT LEAST YOU KNOW THEY'RE COMING!!! (Well, maybe just the hurricanes.) That line of thinking makes total sense. Until you're killed during your first jai alai match. Jackass.

Never again will you be unprepared. Let your coworkers laugh. They won't be laughing so hard when all the doodads and tchotkes that line their cubicle walls start pinging off their unsuspecting and unprotected heads. Meanwhile you'll be laughing all the way down the stairs. Because everyone knows that a football helmet is all you need to survive an earthquake. Just ask Kobe, Japan. All those guys wear football helmets. It's, like, part of the culture. Like those little doctor's masks they wear.

What else do people do when heinous natural disaster strikes? At least you went with the practical choice. No nicking plasma screens for you. No, you only took what you'd need to rebuild this mixed up world in the wake of disaster (well, that and that faux fern you've had your eye on since April). You thought only of your community as you strapped on five tool belts and holstered two nail guns. And caulk! That'll totally fix the gaping hole in the street...once that gaping hole actually appears.

No, really. You'd just finished a particularly riveting gchat conversation with the girl from college that got away and you felt a certain twitch. And it wasn't just your pulse racing at the thought of rekindled love—no, it was 5.8 richters of quake. Swivel-chair shuddering quake. It was real and no one can tell you different.

Until you could hear from Aunt Argilda that the safe hadn't cracked and the boat hadn't detached from port and none of the soft, carpet-like grass on the 9th green had moved, you couldn't sleep. But she was so knocked out on valium and red wine that she didn't pick up. You had to call 35 times, and by then it was nearly 5:45 a.m. You watched the sun rise, afraid it might be your last. Then she picked up and told you to go the fuck to sleep. Love you, Aunt Argie!

That's it—you blew your whole Y2K stash on the 5.8 knee-knocker. Your memory is such a haze, the terror was so real, but you think you might have accidently used all your flares too, trying to let your neighbors know that you were alive and offering shelter. And did you really snort some of the powdered milk? Hopefully that was a bad dream. You'll have to talk it over with your shrink when you start in on the PTSD sessions.

Because it was the only safe place. With building-destroying aftershocks on their way, you had no other choice. Out came the pup tent where you tried to sleep, too scared to actually sleep, especially given all the activity outside. Did you know people actually sleep outside all the time? Terrifying.

Rather than let Sprinkles die slowly in the rebar-choked wreckage of your collapsed building, you took matters into your own hands. It was hard, sure, but no living thing should have to suffer that much. Kant said we can judge the heart of a man by his treatment of animals. Your heart is steely and resolved, and, ultimately, merciful.

When would you have the chance to bone again? You thought this was it, so behind a smoking barrel of trash and what smelled like fish heads, you dropped trou. The homeless person was surprised, no doubt, but you're pretty sure you pulled out your wallet after to smooth things over (guess you can scratch another item of the bucket list, too). The post-sex cigarette was sublime (and very, very dirty). Hey, it was the East Coast Earthquake—none of us can really be held accountable for what we did in the grip of panic.