Yes, I survived the earthquake. I was driving at the time, and I didn’t even realize it had happened until my sister called me to ask if I was okay.
Jesus, it was a 5.4. The only reason I wouldn’t be okay is that I got distracted picking up the phone because you called to see if I was okay.
I immediately called my mother, because I knew her call would be next; she calls when there’s an earthquake in San Fransisco. Which is more on target than my wife’s family, who called to see if we were okay during hurricane Katrina. They’re sweet, but they don’t have a firm grasp on American geography.
In other cities, people talk about the weather. Since we don’t have weather, Angelinos talked about the quake all afternoon.
I hate small talk like this. “Hey, did you experience the geological disturbance this afternoon?”
“The one felt by over 18 million people? I sure did! You?”
It’s not even small talk. It’s tiny talk. You’re just reaching for the absolute lowest common denominator. You’re admitting, I don’t know you at all, so what can I guarantee we have in common? I know! The ground!
You might as well be like,
“Hey, how’s gravity working out for you?”
“Pretty good. You?”
“You’re here? Now? Me, too!”
“That’s amazing! I’m here, too!”