Month: October 2021

(With apologies to William Bronson)

October 17, 1989

Jack and Nick (my bosses, and co-owners of the four-person architectural firm where I had been working for the previous two and a half years) had left the office earlier that afternoon to "discuss business" at the pub a few doors down the street. I wasn't feeling particularly inspired to do any work, and since the only other member of our little professional family, Neill, was absent for some reason, I made the executive decision to close up shop at 4:30 and head home. I had received the repaired video card from my computer in the mail that day and was anxious to get it put back in so I could enjoy the newly purchased NEC "Multisync" monitor I'd picked up at a computer show that previous weekend.

It was a typically balmy autumn afternoon in San Francisco, and I enjoyed the two block walk up 2nd Street to Market, where I went downstairs to MUNI and caught one of the K, L, or M cars outbound which would deposit me at the Van Ness Station for my four block walk home to 12th & Folsom. (Yes, I lived "right around the corner" from the SF Eagle and yet I had only ventured in a handful of times over my tenure at that location.)

After getting off at Van Ness and walking down 12th just past Mission, one of my contact lenses decided to ride up on the top of my eye. As I paused to try and dislodge it, the ground started moving. Having been on the earthquake simulator platform at the Academy of Sciences numerous times, I knew exactly what this was and struggled to keep my balance. At the same time, my contact lens slid back down and I looked across the street to see the billboard above the parking lot at the corner—one of those cantilevered things that was supported on only one end—start bounding up and down. I heard glass breaking, a few people screaming and then, as soon as everything started, it ended.

The stop lights at Howard and at Folsom were both out. When I got home, I quickly saw that power was out there as well. My housemate Frank—who had moved in with me several weeks earlier and whose constant presence (he had just lost his job) was already putting a strain on our relationship (another story for another time), seemed nonchalant about the whole thing and was busy mopping up water that had spilled out of the aquarium.

Remembering what I'd been told about things to do after an earthquake, I grabbed my pipe wrench and headed down to the basement to turn off the gas. I initially turned our's off, but after a couple hours, with no one in the building smelling any gas, I went back downstairs and turned it back on so we could at least cook dinner.

Obviously the power didn't come back on, so I didn't get to enjoy my new monitor, but we had candles, and Frank had a battery-powered radio so we were at least able to stay abreast of what was happening and counted ourselves very lucky as the spotty reports of the damage starting coming in: the Bay Bridge, the Marina (we could see the smoke rising from our living room windows), and the Cypress Freeway in the east Bay. I thought back to all the times I'd driven that freeway that had pancaked…

I phoned my mom to let her know I was okay within minutes of arriving home. After I hung up with her, I phoned my dad to make sure he was okay (he was also living in San Francisco at the time). He was fine as well—a little shaken but okay. I was glad I called Mom when I did, because when I tried to call again about fifteen minutes later, I got the perpetual "All circuits are busy. Please try your call again later," message each time I tried.

As night fell over the city, it was indeed very dark. The only lights seen on Twin Peaks was the dim flickering of thousands of candles. By 10 pm, they were mostly all extinguished and the light of the just-past-full moon was illuminating the city in an eerie glow I'd never seen before.

Neither Frank or I were overly concerned. We and the cats had plenty of food in the house and we stayed out of the refrigerator and freezer to conserve the cold until the power came back on. It was a little odd sleeping without the constant din of the traffic on Folsom or the quiet whirring of the bedroom fan, but I managed.

The next morning there was still no power. I held out hope it would be on sometime that day since Dad told me his—and in fact, much of the city's—electricity had been restored sometime during the night. I was able to get hold of everyone from work, and they were also okay. I was told to not attempt to come downtown. Jack and Nick had returned to the office right after the rumbling stopped and discovered the office was a mess. They couldn't get the security gate at the entrance to our suite open, but they were able to go through the entrance of the structural engineering office next door.  They peeked over the partitions and saw that all the not-fastened-to-the-wall bookcases which had lined the entire south wall of our space had toppled, and while the building itself was not (yet) red-tagged, they didn't want to risk having anyone in there; the cleanup could wait.

Frank was in a pouty mood because of the power still being out, and since I didn't want to deal with it, I ignored my employers' recommendations to just stay home and I headed out to explore.

Hoping to find an open restaurant to grab a bite to eat, I walked up to Market Street hoping to catch a train to the Castro. Surprisingly, the underground MUNI was running—albeit with only limited service between the Embarcadero and Van Ness stations, so riding a train to the Castro wasn't an option. I hopped on a bus, and while not unexpected based on what Dad had told me about the rest of the city, power was on in the Castro,  but every restaurant that was open was mobbed.  And quite unexpectedly, there was a strong, bizarre sexual electricity in the air; it seemed like every beautiful man in the city was out cruising and looking to get laid. I finally gave up hope of getting something to eat, and left went back home, stopping to grab a sandwich at Ted's Market on Howard Street.  

By the time I arrived home Frank was gone, also out exploring.

The next day—with the power still unrestored—and myself now caught up in that weird sexual energy and horny as fuck, I went downtown looking for trouble and was surprised to discover that most of my usual haunts were open, and let me tell ya…they were hopping.

I can quite honestly say that I wasn't frightened during the ordeal.  It was more exciting than anything else.  And despite the inconvenience of being without power for what turned into 36 hours, I can say it was quite a break in the day-to-day monotony of my life.  Granted, it wasn't quite as big a break as if giant UFOs had appeared over the world's cities, but it came damn close.