A Friday the 13th Scare

A couple days ago, on Friday the 13th, I had set my alarm clock to 9:30 a.m. for a very important appointment. Since I could not eat or drink anything before the appointment, I did not want to get up too early.

About one minute before my alarm was to go off, I was aroused by a sound that could have signaled the end of the world. I figured that chances were, the world would still be here with me in it in time for my appointment, but for some very scary seconds, I wasn’t sure what that BOOMING was exactly.

I knew that the rain had not arrived when predicted and I was disappointed when there was no pitter patter to lull me to sleep. I certainly could have used it, because I was having trouble drifting off.

But the explosive sound that lingered at the same decibel for a good three or four seconds did not sound like any thunder that I had ever heard in California in my 37 years here. So my next thought was a bomb and a very big one at that—several bombs, in fact, like a bomb factory blowing up. (Not an unreasonable thought because there actually is a factory in the area that makes explosives).

Having heard a real explosion that happened in Van Nuys when I lived in Northridge, I knew that anything that loud would have shaken the house. But there was no actual shaking, so big bomb nearby was out.

Of course, as a baby boomer, no wordplay intended, I grew up with the actual fear, not paranoia, of nuclear warfare. Being in elementary school in 1962 during the Cuban Missile Crisis, I can tell you that nothing in the world is more terrifying than seeing real fear on the faces of your parents and teachers. And that was when my school started to take bomb drills very, very seriously. We were even evacuated to assigned houses in the neighborhood.

So believing that a nuke had been let loose in Los Angeles or at the Long Beach Port was not entirely unreasonable. Yet, in that moment of stomach churning wakefulness, I knew it wasn’t the Big One. But still being quite foggy, I wasn’t certain where I was.

Back in 1972, I was at home in Chicago during my college summer break and I had a similar experience. In the dead of night, the lightning was so bright that it penetrated my blackout shades and woke me up. A second or two later came the loudest boom I had ever heard, louder than I even knew could exist. It didn’t trail off like thunder, but just kept going for a few seconds, exactly the way I envisioned a nuclear bomb. First, the brightest flash known to mankind, and then the loudest boom ever heard. Followed by eerie silence. Followed by either the sound of fallout or rain.

I heard the rain back in 1972 and assured myself that I would live another day after listening to the radio and all was well. The next day, I ran into a neighbor and she mentioned that she thought it had been a nuclear bomb. Since she was the mother of my girlfriend, I felt huge relief that a smart adult had the exact same reaction as I.

On Friday, my husband walked into the bedroom to see me sitting up in bed with my mouth agape but a look of “What the f--- was that!” The downpour that followed shortly answered my galactic question.

Good morning! It is Friday the 13th. Time to get up for your knee surgery. Now get out of bed.