I lived in El Segundo then, and I remember being ticked off because it woke me up before my alarm went off, to get me up to get ready for work. My hubby braced himself in the bedroom doorway, and I grumbled and turned back over in bed. It wasn't until I got to work at 0800 in Inglewood, that I learned the extent of what had happened.
That day was my Dad's birthday, and I had planned to drive to Bakersfield, where my mom and dad lived, that weekend to visit. Since the freeways were all messed up, I ended up flying from LAX (about a mile from my house) to Bakersfield. My Dad would have been 100 years old today (he died 11/13/95).