WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE IN A GIANT EARTHQUAKE

Since early 2006 when I rode out my first "sizable" earthquake (6.9) I have lived under the impression that, being from a city in the Pacific Northwest that is practically making sweet sweet love to the Cascadia Subduction Zone fault in terms of personal geographic proximity, we are ALL GOING TO DIE IN A GIANT EARTHQUAKE.  Of which I have been reminded by the New Yorkers' lovely new article on how everyone living in the Pacific Northwest is simply living with the fact that we are ALL GOING TO DIE IN A GIANT EARTHQUAKE.

Spending 2ish years of my adult life between Central America and California didn't help.  Where I experienced a further four or so 5.something quakes and a 7.2 that knocked my dresser onto my bed and demolished the neighbors wall shortly before a volcano filled the capitol city with ash, grounding planes and giving my xenophobic ex-pat neighbor another reason to think the world was ending, and me to think that WE WERE ALL GOING TO DIE IN A GIANT EARTHQUAKE.  Far from calmly sitting in my plastic chair sipping tea through the first glimmers of any quake as do some seasoned Northwest veterans, I am scanning every room of every building I ever enter for "triangles of life" and have practiced slamming on my breaks, shutting off my engine and rolling out of my car to lie next to the engine block as quickly as I possibly can so many times that good friends have just stopped asking about the road burn on my shoulders.  Just in case, you know, I happen to be on the I5 Bridge during when the GIANT EARTHQUAKE IN WHICH WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE hits and I must rely on the relative unsquishableness of said engine block to keep me from becoming a people-pancake as the highway falls straight into the sludge we call the Willamette River.

The Discovery Channel hasn't helped either.  I can,  however, say with near certainty that I have watched every earthquake special they have ever aired.  Even the ones about earthquakes that haven't happened yet, and apart from learning that we ARE ALL GOING TO DIE IN A GIANT EARTHQUAKE, I have compiled some useful tips on being the poor cad who gets interviewed about the GIANT EARTHQUAKE IN WHICH WE ALMOST ALL DIED, 10-20 years after it happens.

I know that surviving the first four minutes of any major earthquake boils down to essentially luck.  In a parking garage?  No worries, it'll be quick, but we'll miss you.  Outside in a park?  You lucky bastard.  Old brick building?  Find that triangle of life and probably some form of faith.  On the beach?  You'll survive the earthquake, but probably get washed out to sea with basically every object, natural or man-made, on the Oregon coast when the Tsunami hits.  At home? Let's hope it's a wood-frame.  

Once the earthquake stops, and my beloved Rose City lies in ruins, survival gets easier for those of us who didn’t ALL DIE IN A GIANT EARTHQUAKE.  Stay away from old brick buildings and bridges since they'll likely fall down during aftershocks.  Which can hit for weeks or even months after the fact.  Remember that the Red Cross Supply Warehouses are on the East Side of the river, and that if you and home are on opposite sides, it may be time to resettle.

Should you be fortunate enough to be on the right side of the river to cycle or hike home (remember, the roads and bridges are totes gone by now, knocked over by the GIANT EARTHQUAKE IN WHICH WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE), make good friends with that one neighbor who owns a water filter and NOAA radio, no matter how obnoxious he is. The old lady with the giant garden who sneaks into your yard to kill moles so they won't make it to her gardenias and carrots?  Your new best friend.  Get used to canned beans.  And jokes about canned beans.  Those chickens you let your four year old name?  Now is not the time to get personally attached.  DIY and "Locally Grown" are gonna have whole new meanings since every major city in the Pacific Northwest will basically be rebuilding from scratch, and those of us who love Portland too much to move, and didn’t ALL DIE IN A GIANT EARTHQUAKE, will have essentially signed on as extras in a Portlandia Hippy-Farm sketch with no budget and less-than-union-pay for the entire foreseeable future.

Short term survival aside, I own no less than 4 earthquake survival kits to get me through those first few hours and days after the big one.  One for my car, one for my bike bag, one for my office and one for my apartment.  The manager of the Personal Storage company where Literally-Everything-I-Own-That-Can't-Fit-Into-Two-Check-In-Bags-And-A-Carry-On resides, should be set when the ground underneath the ocean decides that it is time for us to ALL DIE IN A GIANT EARTHQUAKE.  Just in case you are, as I frequently do, scouring the internet for earthquake survival info in light of the recent Nation Magazine article on the GIANT EARTHQUAKE IN WHICH WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE, I have included itemized lists for all three of my kits:

Kit 1 (the car kit):

The car kit assumes that I am out on An Adventure.  As a bus/cyclist to work, the car comes out in the winter, or to take me to Fun-Exciting-Places (FEPs for short).  Thus I assume that should the earthquake hit while I am in possession of my car kit, I am in an FEP far from home and need the following:

A water filter.

A compressed 5 gallon water jug to fill with water using the water filter.  Because water = good.  Just ask California.

Dried food rations for 7 days.  Assuming I eat 3x a day.  Which I do.  

A first aid kit.  Because no one likes bleeding.

A costco-sized bottle of Excedrin. Do you really need an explanation?

A costco-sized bottle of vitamins.  Because they make me feel more secure.  Not because they are actually helpful.

An emergency blanket.  Essentially a 5x5 sheet of tinfoil.

A camping lantern, crank powered.  Light attracks bugs.  Which may one day seem like protein.

A hammock.

A NOAA emergency weather radio.  So that you know when it’s going to rain.

Leatherman

VERY LOUD WHISTLE.  Life is not complete without one.

A File with copies of Important Documents including family contact info.  So that my identity could be stolen while I try to eke out a living an post-apocalyptic wasteland of the city of my dreams.

Matches, Fire-starters and a phone book (good fire-starter material, often free and dropped off at your door every year or so).

LOTS of good tampons and a 4-pack of TP.  Did I mention making friends with your neighbors?

A tooth brush and toothpaste.  Because you never know.

All of this is packed into a handy lidded five gallon bucket.  Because those are good for all sort of things.

Kit 2 (the bike bag kit):

The bike bag kit assumes I am nearish home, and could get there if the bridges haven't fallen into the river yet.  It also assumes that since work was on one side of the river, and home the other, I have access to one or more of my larger kits and just need to get by for a day or so.

A Leatherman

A compressed 1 liter water jug to fill asap after the earthquake and a pack of iodine pills to clean water with for one week. Because water = good.  Just ask California.

A mini first-aid kit.

An emergency blanket.  Essentially a 5x5 sheet of tinfoil.

Matches

VERY LOUD WHISTLE. Life is not complete without one.

A tooth brush and toothpaste.  Because you never know.

Kit 3 (the office kit):

Nothing is more exciting than getting stuck with your co-workers for days in prehistoric conditions as the city of your dreams burns around you. This kit is a replica of the car kit, because I'd hopefully only be stuck at the office a few days, and five gallon buckets fit neatly under cubicle desks.

A co-worker and I may or may not have been considering the purchase of a rubber life raft and paddle.  Just to get across the river if things went south in our weeks-to-months long office camp-out in the parking lot.

Kit 4 (the home kit):

The home kit included everything the car kit includes with these exciting extras:

Canned food to eat for a month.

Backpacking Stove + Pan & Extra Fuel for said stove.  Because canned beans are better warm.

2 way Radio set.

Oodles more TP & loads more tampons.

Work Gloves & Plastic Gloves

Shovel

A giant tarp.

And no, despite the fact that this is prep for the GIANT EARTHQUAKE IN WHICH WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE, the last three items aren't for disposing of a body.  They are for digging a new loo and building a tent to share with Mole-Woman and NOAA-Radio-Guy.  Because those two peeps?  They, in your new post-Cascadia-Subduction-Zone-Apocalypse, are your new best friends.

In short, I have been thinking about the GIANT EARTHQUAKE IN WHICH WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE for years, if not decades.  Please do enjoy the internet fad of articles about it, and read the New Yorker piece.  It’s nicely done.  But don’t forget six months from now, that even though it’s no longer a trending topic on twitter, a giant earthquake is coming.  So stock up on TP, just in case you are one of the lucky ones who rides it out.