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26 years ago today I was 19 and working at Global Travel Too in the Haight District of San Francisco. I drove that day because of the World Series, normally taking Bart and Muni. I normally left at 5pm and was on the Bay Bridge about 5 minutes later, but that day an obviously homeless guy came in from Golden Gate Park just before 5 wanting a quote for a flight home. I was really irritated, wanting to get to where my friends were waiting to watch the A’s crush the Giants in the World Series. At 5:06 the quake struck. My makeshift desk (plywood and cinder blocks) collapsed on me as I dove underneath it. When I came out after the quake the guy was gone and my old building was crumbling – dust and cracks were appearing everywhere. I ran out of the building with my co-workers in time to see the other tenants escape before the doors buckled and it shrunk by 1/2 a floor. After we all caught our breath I got in my car to go home. Going the way I usually did, I saw that they had closed the freeway, but I really didn’t know why. It was only later that I learned that the Cypress Structure had pancaked on itself, crushing cars and killing their occupants. Had I not stayed late I would have been on the bridge. It took me nearly 9 hours to get home that night and I saw some surreal things in the midst of the situation, but from that day to this I never mind detours or things that make me late. I count it as divine intervention, like my homeless angel, and say a silent thank you for possibly keeping me safe.