There are lots of words that frighten me. "War" is one. "Snake" is another. And I've never been overly fond of "alimony," either. 

But earthquake: as in the ground opens and swallows you up. 

The paper said that only one day before I arrived here, a quake registering 5.9 on the Richter scale had tossed Southern California hither and thither. There was a lot of damage, a few injuries, but nobody had been killed. 

What really caught my attention, however, was the suggestion that continuing shock waves from the original earthquake might set off a few more in the next couple of days, the exact length of my visit. 

I went directly back to the Delta counter to book myself the next available r eturn flight to Atlanta, where there never has been a recorded earthquake. 

My traveling companion tackled me, however, and took away my wallet and credit cards. Quite reluctantly I ventured on to my hotel. Locals don't fear quakes 

I was assigned a room on the 11th floor. 

"Do you have anything lower?" I asked. 

"What did you have in mind?" said the clerk. 

"A very secure metal vault in the basement," I said. 

The clerk laughed. "You're afraid of another earthquake," he said. "All our out-of-town guests are the same. But don't worry. A 5.9 on the Richter scale is nothing." 

For years, scientists have been warning that there definitely is going to be a major earthquake in Southern California, a catastrophic earthquake that could cause the entire area to fall off into the Pacific Ocean. Scientists further say it could come at any time. 

What is amazing, however, is the locals seem unconcerned. 

"The last quake came at 2 in the morning," a native was telling me. "I slept right through it." 

"I worry more about the smog or getting killed on the freeway than I do an earthquake," said another. Taking a few precautions 

Me, I've been the proverbial cat in a room full of rocking chairs for nearly 48 hours. 

Everywhere I walked, I walked very slowly, making sure each step was on terra firma that wasn't doing the boogaloo before I took another. 

I've been very careful to notify waiters not to fill my coffee cup completely full. In case of a quake, I don't want to spill hot coffee on myself. 

Whenever I've waited on the street for a cab, I have tied myself to the nearest light post with my belt in case a tremor suddenly came and the flat horizon was suddenly downhill. 

So far, so good. Southern California is still basically intact and so am I, and in just a few more hours, I will be out of here. 

If I make it, thanks, Lord. If I don't, tell my mother I remembered to brush every day and I never wore dirty underwear unless it was absolutely necessary. 

"Don't worry," the hotel clerk had said. "A 5.9 on the Richter scale is nothing." 

It's not the Richter scale that bothers me. It's richter mortis.