The Southern Shake, the Atlanta Agitation, the Peachtree Pulsing…
Felt like a train. Felt like one of those lumbering freight trains that run outside your Days Inn window. The kind that make the alarm clock dance and wake you up, in case you'd slept through the previous hour's factory whistle.
But while it felt like a train, it didn't sound like one. Believe me, I listened. Funnels had touched down to the northwest a few days earlier, and when the room shook I couldn't rule out a sequel. The kitchen went into a light wave pool roll for a good five seconds — maybe 10 or 15 with the wave's ease out — taking me, the kitchen furniture and my 5 a.m. orange juice along for the undulations.
I stood and looked out the kitchen door, and the trees weren't moving. That discounted the tornado theory but lent support to the hallucination theory.
Regularly waking at 4:30 leads one to doubt oneself, especially in regards to physical phenomena. You brush your teeth twice, and you pour juice on your cereal. Hallucinating would seem to be the logical next step. A friend of mine says she hallucinated working overnights once. A witch flew over in her in the ladies room, she said.
With all of these thoughts popping up, I was somewhat happy to get a room shaking instead of a witch flying. The less occult visions, the better off you are — that's a good rule of thumb, right?
But then I turned on the television. "EARTHQUAKE," read the banner. I had survived the Atlanta earthquake of '03. As of yet, I haven't found any commemorative T-shirts.



