Rocking Our World

As a transplanted Californian, I am appalled by the seismic events of this past weekend. A 5.1 magnitude earthquake—with an epicenter located near Plattsburgh, New York—rattled windows and shook a few foundations early Saturday morning. More importantly, however, it shattered what was, until Saturday, an undeniable distinction between the East and West coast, opening the fault for some Easterners—West Coast wannabees—to consider themselves one of us.

When I crossed the continental divide to begin my illustrious college career a mere two years ago, I believed I had left behind the idyllic Golden State’s legion of woes—wildfires, floods, landslides, droughts, smog alerts, drive-by shootings, high speed car chases and, especially, earthquakes that too frequently register on the much-hallowed Richter scale.

According to the U.S. Geological Survey, Southern California alone experienced 47 earthquakes last week—207 the week before that. New York State is home to an earthquake of a 5-point magnitude about once every 20 years. The State of California had two last fall.

The unifying element of all these California tremors—I did not have to experience any of them. However, Saturday morning I was inexplicably awakened from eight hours of unconscious bliss, only to experience the faint yet extremely unsettling rumbling that I had felt so many times before.

After a brief moment of extreme cognitive dissonance, I recalled my location—safely in my East Coast college dorm room. It was impossible, I thought, that these terrible tremors had found their way to Harvard. Convincing myself otherwise, I went back to sleep. Saturday morning, however, my suspicions were confirmed. Earthquakes had followed me east.

It was a devil’s bargain, trading sun and sand for a college experience that was, until this week, relatively free of natural disasters. In making my college decision, I had carefully determined that I could deal with snow, sleet, and even Derek Jeter, but only if I was free from seismic events.

To East Coasters: Since I arrived at Harvard, you have repeatedly attempted to replicate my enchanted homeland. Moving a Pacific Sunwear into Harvard Square was a cute gesture, considering it is only “sunny” here eight days a year. However, in your newly found penchant for active fault lines, you have dangerously blurred the distinction between the coasts. This earthquake was a seismic anomaly, yet you consider yourselves blooded veterans for having gone through the experience once. Let this be a warning to you, West Coast wannabees, if you went west as I have gone east, you won’t have a seismically reinforced leg on which to stand.

To my fellow Californian Harvardians: If these Easterners want to know what living in a land of earthquakes is really like—show them. Stock your mini-fridges with two weeks of water, upgrade your first aid kits and pressure Harvard to bring its buildings up to code.