Before coming to the West Coast, I've never experienced an earthquake. Which is no big surprise, since the East Coast is nowhere near a fault line.

So it was a huge shock to me when the lights suddenly started blinking on and off.

I was in a SOMA bar with some friends. I forget which one it was exactly, but it was an average neighborhood bar.

We arrived around 9:00pm. Still accustomed to life as a New Yorker, 9:00pm was still really early. But it seemed normal to the San Franciscans in the group. So, trying to adapt myself, I kept my mouth shut and came along.

It was a lot colder than I thought it would be. Everyone outside of California seems to assume that the entire state is always sunny and hot, both SoCal (Southern California) and NoCal (Northern California). So I stupidly left my coat in my hotel.

Of course, now I know better. The key, I've been told, is Layers. Wear layers of clothing that can incrementally keep you warmer (by putting on more layers) or cooler (by removing layers).

And 9:00pm in San Francisco, as I now know, can get chilly.

The next shock came at 1:00am.

I had a new beer in my hands, having ordered it just minutes before. Suddenly, the lights began blinking on and off.

Due to numerous shots, my mind was in an advanced form of intoxication. So I slurred out, "Holy shit, it's an earthquake!" I could feel the whole bar moving. I suddenly found it difficult to keep upright and fell against a table.

"Damn, Mike, what's wrong with you?" one of my friends asked.

"Wha?" I slurred. "It's an earthquake!" I couldn't believe how calm and upright everyone else in the bar was.

"Mike," my friend calmly stated, "it's not an earthquake. It's last call."

I blinked. "Wha?"

"Last call. It's the last call for drinks. The bar's going to close soon."

I rubbed my eyes and looked at my watch. It read 1:00am. "Last call?" I asked. "It's only 1:00am…"

"Yea, I know, Mike. Most bars here close at 2:00am."

I climbed back to my feet. The bar still felt like it was moving, but maybe that was because of the alcohol and not the shifting of the continental plates.

I looked at my watch one more time, sighed, and downed my beer. "Goddamn last call…" I muttered as the San Franciscans laughed and hollered at this displaced New York City boy.

. . .

Do you remember your first experience in San Francisco?