My first ever earthquake experience happened in 2011.  I was sitting at my desk on the 37^th floor of my office a few blocks from Grand Central Station when I began to slightly bounce up and down. Lasted five seconds, max. In what felt like a blink of an eye, co-workers confirmed it was an earthquake via Breaking News online. It had originated in Virginia.

I smiled. I had finally experienced an earthquake. As many times as I had visited California in the past two decades, I never experienced one. Here on the east coast, which is known for hurricanes and snowstorms granted me that non-wish wish.

Friday, April 5, 2024? There were no smiles for the 4.8 earthquake. When it was over, I bawled at the horror of it all. The quake lasted three times as long with a rumbling sound and feeling that gained intensity. I was alone. Another life-altering thing I had to experience alone. And without pants.

Although still working for the same company, I was now a remote worker. Whether lounging on my couch on a lazy Sunday or working at my glass table in my one-bedroom Brooklyn apartment on a weekday, I like to be comfortable. Usually, that means sans pants. I was wearing a hoodie, panties, headscarf and socks when Mother Earth decided to start a shimmy in New Jersey that was reportedly felt in parts of Philly, New York, Virginia and Boston. Not only did I slide into my bedroom like Tom Cruise in Risky Business, I tripped like a white girl in the woods in horror films running to my room to get pants to run outside. By then it had ended, but the tears and shaking started.

I logged off for the rest of the day, but remained seated at my table. I was still there when the 4.0 aftershock struck. Somehow, I took it in stride. It was top of mind when I took the world’s quickest shower that evening. I washed only the important parts. Never mind being pantsless, I would be whole butt-ass naked if another one hit!

Friday’s events rattled me and my anxiety extended into the weekend. So much so that I didn’t want to stay home on Saturday, despite being exhausted from staying up late and waking up early for a morning step class at the gym. I took myself on a Sher Date to the Brooklyn Museum, where I’m a Member. #Adulting

Viewing the Giants exhibit, the personal art collection of Alicia Keys and Swizz Beatz, long before its end date was a departure for me. I’m such a procrastinator, I usually have to rush to museums literally on the last date not to miss an exhibit. Needless to say, I’ve missed plenty. I bought a membership to Brooklyn Museum because non-member tickets to view the Obama portraits were sold out the final weekend. I. Wanted. In.

Giants is quite a collection. I wondered where most of them are stored or displayed when not on loan to museums. I was proud to immediately recognize the works of Kehinde Wiley, Amy Sherald, Basquiat, Henry Taylor, and Gordon Parks. They’re all popular artists and I don’t have enough knowledge to switch careers into art curation, but “yay, me!” nonetheless. There were more new-to-me names than not.

Wiley and Sherald painted POTUS and FLOTUS, respectively. I don’t know what to say to someone who can’t recognize a Wiley portrait by now because of the Barack Obama portrait, but I had seen his exhibit at Brooklyn Museum years before the Obama commission. Sherald’s work has been featured on a few book covers.

Per usual, my phone battery was drained from taking so many photos and videos.

It just so happened to be First Saturday at the museum. The number of people that greeted my eyeballs when I emerged from the exhibit and gift shop had multiplied from when I first arrived. Fabulously dressed people were everywhere. No doubt they’d be featured on the museum’s social media by the end of the night. The loud music and mingling bodies were my cue to exit, but not before taking a photo in front of the green step-and-repeater courtesy of a solo gentleman who was returning the favor.

A few days later, Monday, I was still on a high on Eclipse Day. The moon was slated to pass in front of the sun in late afternoon. New York City would get to see a 90% eclipse, while some parts of the country would see less or none at all. I wanted to witness and experience the historical event with my own “protected” eyes, not on a live telecast.

I grabbed my free eclipse glasses courtesy of Brooklyn Public Library and headed to the Herbert von King Park a few blocks from my apartment. In tow: a beach blanket, book, journal, water bottle. I bought Zappos salt and vinegar chips and a plain, untoasted bagel with plain cream cheese along the way.

I knew it wasn’t an original idea but was still surprised to see how many people were at the park. Couples, families, groups of friends, and solo people like me made the trek. I was shocked and appalled (not really appalled but why not be dramatic?) at the number of small children and dogs. What if they looked up without protective eyewear? I guess plenty of people were unprepared because I heard an entrepreneur’s voice selling eclipse glasses for $5. “I accept CashApp, Venmo and Zelle.”

I set up shop in a gap between a soloist and a couple with a small child and a small dog on a leash. At some point, a tiny, unleashed dog had scampered mere feet from my blanket to do its business. I suspect that had I not sat up and looked around for the owner, she never would have come over to clean up Buffy’s mess.

I peaked at the sky with my glasses in between reading The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead. It looked like a crescent moon, except I knew it was a crescent sun. I placed my camera on the ground and flipped to front facing camera, but it never captured it the same as how I viewed it through the paper glasses. The sky was a beautiful blue, not cloudless, but nothing that obscured the sun.

I had dropped my pen so couldn’t journal as originally planned. I put a decent dent into reading. I listened to music on earbuds even though they kept popping out each time I shifted positions while lying on the ground. Some people played music on speakers and a musician played live. At one point, it became noticeably darker and the temperature dropped. I had been at the park for about two hours.

When it began to brighten again, I headed home, satisfied that I had experienced a natural occurrence of my own volition, unlike the one a few days prior. An earthquake and an eclipse. Both were way bigger than me and spectacular in their own ways. What a universe. No one knows when the next earthquake will strike, but the next eclipse is 2045. Those were over.

Next, I had to prepare for the opera.