Earthquake from the 76th Floor: Bangkok Mahanakhon

Earthquake from the 76th Floor: Bangkok Mahanakhon

What it’s like to be 76 floors in the air when the ground decides to move.

When Mother Nature reminds you how small you are, the lesson sticks.

My recent experience during Bangkok's earthquake is something I’ll never forget—a story of sudden danger, split-second decisions, and the strange clarity that comes when everything around you starts to fall apart.

A View to Remember

I was having lunch on the 76th floor of the Mahanakhon building—one of Bangkok’s tallest skyscrapers. The ride up alone felt futuristic: the elevator shot to the top in just 15 seconds. With my friend running late, I settled in, took some skyline photos, and texted my partner Luke that we had to come back together.

The first warning was subtle. The building swayed gently. I brushed it off as strong wind—surely these towers were built to flex.

Then the chandelier started swinging.

Curious, I filmed it with my phone. But when cabinets tore from the walls and glass bottles crashed to the floor, the truth hit.

The restaurant manager’s urgent shout cut through the confusion:

“We have to leave. NOW.”

When Realization Strikes

Suddenly, we were in a scene straight out of a disaster movie. We sprinted past falling gold domes toward the emergency stairs.

Only then did it fully register—we were 76 floors up, and the building was in the middle of an earthquake.

The Descent

The stairwell felt endless.

Wearing a dress and shoes that couldn’t have been worse for the situation, I joined dozens of others in a frantic descent. People were fainting from panic and exertion. We barely paused—until the second quake hit.

In that moment, we all froze, hands clamped tight to the rails. No one spoke. We just hoped the building would hold.

My calves ached for days after. A small price to pay.

Finding My Way Home

I ended up across the city, alone. The trains were down, and roads were jammed. I flagged down a motorbike driver, pleading in broken English.

He nodded: “Hold tight.”

For 55 minutes, we weaved through footpaths and side streets, avoiding the chaos. When we reached Ekkamai, I paid him triple. He smiled. I nearly cried.

The Aftermath

It felt surreal—like stepping out of a film set.

But Bangkok didn’t crumble. People worked together. Cleanup started immediately. The city bounced back faster than I imagined.

Still, the psychological impact lingers. Luke—who’s now been through three earthquakes with me—flinches at loud noises. I know others who feel the same.

A Timely Reminder

Moments like this rip away the illusion of control. You’re reminded that nothing is guaranteed—not comfort, not plans, not even the ground beneath you.

It’s not a lesson in fear. It’s a reminder to pay attention.

To be here, fully.

To love the people in your life.

To stop putting things off for “someday.”

Because when the world shakes, what matters becomes crystal clear.