By Natalie Helms

He cranked the dial to an 8.0. A full, terrifying, epicenter 8.0.

“Oh, crap.” I thought the earthquake simulator maxed-out at a 7.1 magnitude on the Richter scale.

I tightly gripped a nearby handle. Stared straight ahead. “This is not a ride; this is an experience,” said a stern automated voice.

And then the shaking started.

Forty-five seconds of uncontrollable movement. Nearly a minute. Felt like eternity. I slid out of my seat. My feet couldn’t ground me. Nothing was stationary. I couldn’t concentrate on anything but regaining control of my body. I failed.

Make it stop. Please, make it stop.

For fear of falling to the floor, I shouted “Are we done yet!?” as the machine slowed to a halt.

The Alaska Department of Homeland Security and Emergency Management’s earthquake simulator, “The Quake Cottage,” thoroughly shook me.

As a native Midwesterner conditioned since childhood to duck and cover from tornados in the flat-lands, I know nothing about earthquakes.

When I first learned about the simulator two weeks ago and wrote a story about it for the paper, I immediately knew I wanted to test it out.

I’m an adrenaline junkie who will gladly ride every roller coaster that turns you upside-down and every which way. A little shaking would be no match for the hundreds of crazy coaster rides that I’d ridden over the years. I wasn’t afraid at all.

I went on the simulator just following two groups of elementary school kids. Screams and shrieks of laughter came from the blue machine as it rocked and jostled back and forth, nearly throwing the little bodies out if its four black seats.

“I almost barfed!” exclaimed third-grader Andrew Winkel as he talked about his experience to the class.

From outside the simulator, it looked like a pretty short and painless ride. “If little kids can do it, I can do it,” I thought.

But I did start to get a bit more anxious as some of the students came down the stairs with nervous half-smiles painted on their faces.

Jeremey Zidek, the division’s public information officer, said the state tries to get an educational message out to the kids immediately before and after their experience on the simulator. The division encourages people to drop, cover and hold on during an earthquake, and stresses that people should not run outside.

I came out of the machine with wide eyes and a faster heartbeat. I was definitely more afraid than I was going in.

Chad Fullmer, the machine operator, said that people often react in two ways. Either they’re scared going in but come out thinking it was fun or vice versa, like me.

The 1964 Alaskan earthquake was of a 9.2 magnitude and lasted for more than five minutes. I can’t imagine how disorienting that would be in real life.

Honestly, when I would see reports and pictures of earthquake destruction in other countries, I felt sad, but it was hard to empathize. Now I know how serious this type of natural disaster and its effects can be.

Zidek handed out informational packets, stickers and trivia pages to the students and community members who tried the simulator about earthquake safety and preparedness. For more information, visit https://www.ready.alaska.gov/preparedness or call at 907-428-7000.