Last night I was in bed watching Central American news (Noticias CB24), the kids were watching "Jessie" on the Disney Channel and Elise was taking a shower. This is our fairly typical wind-down scene before bed. I felt the bed moving back and forth so I called for the kids just in case the were playing "Spy kids" on me. They weren't messing around and that is when I realized we were in an earthquake (El Terremoto). The pedant lights in the kitchen were swaying, in fact, the whole building was swaying. Being on the 23rd floor had a whole new meaning, a new claustrophobic and totally out of control feeling. The kids got spooked and wanted to leave the building. Leaving, however, was not practical as our earthquake attire consisted of me wearing boxers, the kids in sleeping shirts, and my wife wrapped in a wet towel. Imagine the time it would take to go down 23 flights of stairs. Anything that could have happened would have happened well before we got out. It was a scary reminder for us that fate can play a larger role in our lives than we give it credit.