As everyone who hasn’t been living under a rock already knows, Frankenstorm hit the east coast like a bat out of hell on Monday night. The best description I’ve seen of Manhattan, post-Sandy, is that it’s now a city divided between darkness and light… above Times Square it’s easy to imagine everything is completely back to normal. But with power (and in most places, running water) off in Lower Manhattan since Monday, I thought I’d chronicle our days since being plunged into the darkness.
I’d like to preface this post by sending out my very heartfelt wishes to all those truly affected by Hurricane Sandy. Whatever minor inconveniences we’ve faced are nothing compared to the damage and loss of life that’s occurred in our neighboring burroughs and states; my heart goes out to everyone that’s fighting to stay warm or has lost their home or is mourning the loss of a loved one.
Days #11,150- 53… and counting…:
MONDAY: With the day off from work to wait out the impending storm, Mr. M & I are a teensy bit excited… our first ever weather-related day off! I remember having the day off school during the 1992 Watts Riots in LA, but snow or hurricane-days are understandably not a big thing in California. Charlie Mae and I go for a few eerily quiet walks around Soho. The area is like something out of a Western movie, complete with tumbleweeds of trash blowing across empty city streets. Usually-packed Broadway Street is completely empty. When the winds pick up enough to blow poor Charlie’s feet out from under her, I decide it’s time to settle in back home.
[Mon, 8pm]: Finish responding to a myriad of concerned texts and emails from friends. “Have power, safe & dry. Love you!” Snuggle in to watch storm updates on CNN. After Gov Christie’s alarmist speech (Executive Summary: “Get the hell out of Jersey!”), I decide to pull flashlights and batteries out of our hall closet. Previously was not 100% sure we even owned flashlights.
[Mon, 8:31pm]: Power abruptly blows out. Mr. M’s famous last words are that he’d be “shocked” if it lasted more than an hour.
[Mon, 9:32pm]: I mock the old man’s previous statement and ask if he has any further predictions. We try to enjoy Lights Out in Manhattan Night for the one-night event we imagine it will be. Mr. M mixes up some impromptu cocktails, and we play cards by candlelight. The winds howl outside. Charlie Mae senses bad things a-comin’ and wonders why we’re laughing over Dark & Stormies.
TUESDAY: Surprisingly… no power still. Huh. Perhaps we should’ve invested in a battery-operated radio… Or charged our cell phones before the storm. We take the pup out for a post-Frankenstorm walk and find surprisingly little visible damage other than a lot of downed trees and debris.
Power seems to be out as far as we can see. At least all of Soho/ Little Italy/ Nolita is without electricity. People generally look confused. One corner grocery is open, selling hot coffee out of a few giant thermoses.
The line goes around the block.
[Tues, 11:10am]: Boredom begins to take hold. I wonder how people with kids are keeping them entertained. Mr. M breaks out a 3D puzzle of Manhattan that he got for Christmas. It seems like a good time to sort through my closet.
[Tues, 1:20pm]: I realize I should probably check in with my family to let them know we’re okay. I power on my cell phone (whose battery power I’ve been saving) and learn we have zero cell phone reception. Anywhere in our neighborhood.
[Tues, 2:30pm]: Mr. M & I decide it’s time for an exploratory walk around. How far does this outage go? Without access to news or the outside world, we have no clue. Charlie Mae is bedecked in a jazzy sweater, and we take to the streets, merging with the throngs of people now carrying suitcases and heading north to find power. We make it up to Union Square at 14th St and find hundreds of people milling about searching for cell phone reception. Crowds are gathered around the lobby of the W Hotel trying to use their wifi and power chargers. ConEd (the power company) has at least sixty trucks parked in the GreenMarket area of Union Square.
I look due north, and there’s not a single blinking traffic light in sight.
[Tues, 5:17pm]: The last bit of sun dips behind our neighboring building. Mr. M & I squint to continue putting our puzzle together. Too late. It’s time for the candles. This isn’t fun anymore.
[Tues, 5:32pm]: It’s still at least a little bit light outside. We decide to go for another walk. It’s eery and disorienting to walk the city without street lights. Where are we?
Tacombi NYC happens to be open, as signaled by two candles outside its door. They’re cooking on gas burners and giving away free tacos before their food spoils. Because there’s no cell reception, there’s no way to let people know, and the line is ridiculously short. Bonus: they have sangria! We get sangria to go. I figure NYPD has bigger problems than to hassle me for drinking sangria on the streets. Half a block down, we find people have created bonfires in trashcans. In the middle of the street. Things have apparently gotten Real. It’s time to go home.
[Tues, 8:29pm]: Everything in our fridge is officially past its prime. Mr. M decides to salvage the frozen shrimp that are necessarily thawing in our freezer. We have a gas range, and he’s able to heat water to cook said shrimp. He gets excited, seasoning them with bay leaves and garlic salt. I’m wary of the day-old shrimp and say so, pointedly. My worrying ruins the shrimp, which suddenly taste far too fishy. We eat three, grow concerned about getting sick off bad seafood with no way of calling or getting to the hospital, and push the shrimp bowl aside with a grimace.
Mr. M throws the delinquent shrimp in the trash and goes to take them out. Our building’s trash compactor is full, and there’s no way to dispose of our trash. He brings the bag back inside where Charlie Mae suddenly takes an interest in errant shrimp. The trash bag containing Bad Shrimp and Day-Old Eggs is placed on the landing where Charlie Mae can’t get to it.
[Tues, 9:07pm]: We dig into our food reserves and go through half a bag of pistachios. And a whole bottle of expensive red wine. I drink too much and dance in the candlelight, without inhibition and presumably quite badly. Nothing good can come of boredom. Mr. M has enough of my aggressive dancing (“Hey! HEY! Mr. M!! Watch me do the robot!”) and decides it’s time for bed.
I spend the night alternately smelling shrimp and dreaming that our apartment has been infested by rats, roaches, or both.
WEDNESDAY: It’s Halloween. We wake up fighting about nonsense (“Yes, but do you even appreciate what I bring to the relationship??”). This is what happens when two people spend too much time together without power or hot water. We realize this, stop, and make up.
[Wed, 8:43am]: On our way out the door to take Charlie Mae for a walk, we ask the doormen if they’ve heard anything about when power is supposed to be restored… or even how far the blackout is.
Apparently, the lights are out up to 40th St. All of lower Manhattan (Tribeca, Financial District, Soho, the Lower East Side, Greenwich, Chelsea, Flatiron, Gramercy) is without power. ConEd estimates power might not be back till early next week.
We’re blown away to learn that it’s that wide-spread. Without a radio or any way to get news, we’ve been without a window into the outside world. We have no idea how bad the devastation was from the hurricane.
While we’re out on our walk, we briefly get cell phone reception, and Mr. M’s boss calls to say he’s sending a driver down to pick us up and take us to their office near Central Park. As we walk around, it becomes clear that, as elitist as it sounds, a personal driver is the best way to get out of the darkness of Lower Manhattan.
Everywhere we look, people with suitcases, backpacks, dogs, kids are trying to hail cabs, which are driving around without their meters on and charging upwards of $60 for a one-way trip uptown. The subways downtown are out for the foreseeable future, and there aren’t enough cabs. Some corners have five different groups of people desperately trying to hail a cab.
The payphone a few blocks up, which I’ve never noticed till just now, has fifteen people waiting to use it.
[Wed, 10:53am]: We try to make ourselves look presentable without access to hot water. I lament the fact that I didn’t stock up on dry shampoo before Frankenstorm. My hair laughs and rebels.
A car comes to pick us up, like a magic gift sent from above. There’s radio in the car. The driver tells us all the news that’s been swirling around the world in the day and a half we’ve been off the grid. The power station at 14th St was built for 11-foot waves and was hit by a 14-foot wall of water, when it promptly exploded in a theatrical firework and cut out power to all of Lower Manhattan. A lot of New Jersey has been demolished.
As we drive north, we see more people migrating in droves with suitcases with shopping bags full of clothes and supplies. Bus service has resumed, and lines for any bus headed north are around the block. We’re dropped off at Mr. M’s work… on the north side, as several streets have been completely evacuated due to a crane that blew off the roof a sixty-story building and is now dangling over 57thSt.
[Wed, 12:55pm]: Power. Internet access. Phone reception. Hot coffee.
I set myself up in a spare office-turned-refugee-camp and get to work answering a host of “Are you guys ok??” messages from family and friends. Two of Mr. M’s colleagues had to walk over sixty blocks to get there. Most are staying with friends or at hotels above 40th St. No one has hot water because steam power has been shut off. One poor guy has his parents visiting and has no power, no running water, no cell reception. He’s searching for a hotel room anywhere in Manhattan and can’t find anything. Most of the major hotels in Manhattan have turned off their phones.
We hear that our water may soon be shut off. I desperately search for hotel rooms all afternoon. We find only two hotels with available rooms, neither of which will accept dogs.
I check CNN and local news to find out what’s been going on. I’m surprised to read headlines about how Manhattan is “slowly getting back to normal, and restoring subway service north of Times Square beginning Thursday.” A heckuvalotta people live south of Times Square. While I always consider news to be extreme and alarmist, I’m shocked by how underwhelming the news coverage is. Downtown is a ghost town. Cut off from civilization, it feels a bit feral.
[Wed, 4:47pm]: We gear up to head home. Before leaving the office, we make sure everyone has flashlights and bottled water. Priorities have changed.
There are no taxis to be found. The subway is closed. We happen to see a bus pull over and cram our way on, figuring we’ll take it as far south as it goes. No one pays for the bus.
Somewhere around 39th St, the traffic lights are out, and the bus just honks and keeps driving in the darkness. It’s my first time on a NYC bus, and I’m not alone; no one knows how to open the doors to exit the bus. Riders swap mythical tales about where to get a warm shower. There’s a feeling of solidarity, as we all head into the darkness.
[Wed, 5:41pm]: The bus stops somewhere just north of Washington Square Park. We’re grateful beyond belief and begin the 20-minute walk back to our apartment in Soho. People break off in groups. The streets are deserted and pitch-black dark. A man dressed in full clown costume- complete with makeup- runs by and scares the devil out of me. I remember it’s Halloween. If Mr. M weren’t with me, I’d have my pocketknife in my hand, ready to go.
It’s genuinely creepy in the way abandoned industrial areas are. Shadowy mannequins in the deserted Soho shops make me jump. We see a group trying to rig homemade chargers using streetlamp wires. So many people have left the area that I’m reminded of the post-apocalyptic movie “I Am Legend.” I don’t know how to capture this eery and utterly un-repeatable ambiance.
[Wed, 6:05pm]: We let poor, forsaken Charlie Mae out for a walk in Nolita. Other people with dogs and flashlights have taken to the streets. Most of the apartments are empty and have been left behind… only a few windows showcase the glow of candlelight. Our neighborhood pizza place is using a car battery to power a large floodlight and is baking pizzas on the coal-burning oven. The absolutely wonderful folks at Tacombi NYC invite us in for more tacos & sangria. They let us bring Charlie Mae inside so she doesn’t have to stay in the pitch-black outside. There’s a corner grocery running a generator to light the center aisle and accepting cash for people who need to restock candles, pet food, etc. New Yorkers really do pull together when it counts.
We use our flashlight to get back in the absolute, inky black of night. It’s dangerous crossing major streets, as cars are whizzing by at 40mph in the absence of streetlights. We run for it.
A nearby pub boasts on their candlelit chalkboard of owning a landline. It’s a little surreal.
The hallways of our building are pitch-black. The doormen confirm that we’re one of only a few still left; most others have left to head further north. This does not help the feeling of eery unsettled-ness that I have.
[Wed, 8:01pm]: The apartment reeks of shrimp. Mr. M decides it’s time to take the matter into his own hands and throws the stinky trash bag out on the street. Such lawlessness. Emboldened, he then risks another ridiculous dance party courtesy of Me and gets his newly-charged ipad playing tunes. We know the routine- I light candles, and he makes tea. Charlie Mae chases her ball in the shadows. All the windows across the street are dark. It feels scarier tonight.
The evening is cold. At least we get some insulation from the other buildings around- I feel bad for those in the suburbs without heat or firewood. I wrap Charlie up in a blanket, and we snuggle together under our down comforter. It’s dead quiet outside… this can’t be New York City.
THURSDAY: Daytime feels so much more comfortable and brings higher spirits. People emerge in their work clothes and walking shoes, preparing to journey up to midtown. There’s a traffic cop directing traffic at our nearest major intersection.
While walking Charlie in the morning, we see a woman with a Starbucks cup. She’s brought it with her on the bus from another burrough. I’ve heard hot coffee in Lower Manhattan is being marked up 300%, and I’m surprised it’s not more. I wonder what a caramel macchiato would go for down here.
We actually see a few taxi cabs with their lights on! Thankfully, taxis are now filling up their vehicles with passengers instead of taking one party at a time. Cell phone reception is coming back to Lower Manhattan- it’s spotty, but at least a bit better. Mr. M gets a text that his boss’s car is coming to take us to the office building again. I pack my walking shoes in case we have to walk back home.
The driver tells us that the gasoline situation is getting dire, that gas stations in Manhattan and some parts of New Jersey are out of gas to fuel cars and generators. He’s worried things may get worse before they get better.
[Thurs, 10:51am]: It’s odd being in Mr. M’s office, where I have hot coffee and wifi and a working phone. Life really does feel close to normal. Being north of the divide, it’s easy to forget what it feels like back down south.
Mr. M & I thank the heavens that we’re in good health and able to walk to power if need be. We’re minorly inconvenienced at worst. I’d say things are pretty good.
**The darkness isn’t over, but seeing as how I have access to wifi up at Mr. M’s work right now- and this post is already Tolstoy-esque in length- I’m posting while I have the chance! Please bear with me being a bit slow responding to comments. See you on the other side, friends! Take care of yourselves and of one another. Kindness is so important.**
Wow.
That's what I keep saying!
Mr. & Mrs. M & Charlie - Its certainly not like sunny California. We here in Chicago are keeping an eye on you thru CNN. Glad to know your all 3 OK. We've had quite a few experiences in the winter when the girls were little in Omaha, Nebraska and also the major tornado that just missed out house in Omaha. Its never dull from the midwest....east. I'll keep on reading your blog. Love your cousin Lou Hoppe
Hi Lou! Absolutely- if we've learned anything since leaving the west coast it's that the weather report actually means something out here! :) We're definitely all okay- hopefully power will be restored in the next day or so. Love to you & the rest of the family!
I just have no words and cannot even begin to fathom what it's like for you guys. I am so, so happy to hear you are safe and healthy, though. You are right: That is the important part. I was already feeling guilty because my area got off easily (the eye went right over us, so we had a nice 2 hour break instead of the terrible winds and rains you guys had). I had to stop watching the news. I'm just 30 or so miles from Atlantic City, and the photos just keep popping up. It's so unreal and heartbreaking. I can't even imagine. Hopefully you get your power back soon!
You're so sweet- thank you for the kind words! We're safe, our apt is safe, and our loved ones are all safe... I honestly can't ask for anything more. (Although if the powers that be are listening, hot water would be reeeally nice...) You should not for one second feel guilty about not being affected... I think I speak for all in saying it makes me much happier knowing that at least a few areas of NJ are doing okay!
Your account does seem much like some kind of a movie. I second the WOW!
It feels that way! If I'd had our little flip video camera charged, I would've taken some footage. It's definitely surreal... certainly an adventure we didn't think we'd have! ;)
Glad to hear you're alright. I've been keeping up with the news. Your blog was really good. You need to keep it for the future. Years from now you'll enjoy reading it. Maybe some day we'll meet. Our family has been scattering all over the country. I don't know if you know but we left Calif. for Nampa, Idaho along with our son Eric. Since Jack died Barry moved here too. We haven't experienced anything drastic, hope we never do. Sandy is a catastrophe and keeps getting worse for some. Good luck. Cousin Rose Coleman
Hi Cousin Rose! Thank you so much for stopping by my blog! We're now completely back to normal, but my heart just goes out for our poor NJ & NY neighbors still without power in this cold front. Thanks again for all your well wishes.
Glad you made it through the storm with no major damage.
Thank you! I'm so thankful that we only encountered minor inconveniences... absolutely nothing compared to what others have gone (and are still going) through!
This is the kind of thing that reminds people to be serious about getting ready for disaster. It's something I've always done to a certain extent, because my home town is a seismically active area and my current residence is more or less on top of a fault line. However the Christchurch earthquakes prodded me into getting more serious. I now have food and water for at least a week, plus battery lights and a camp stove. If you're thinking about doing something similar, this might help - http://www.getthru.govt.nz/web/GetThru.nsf
So true- and thank you for this wonderful resource! We always had an earthquake kit in CA, but it somehow didn't make the move to NY. This was definitely a reminder that every home needs one... just in case. Did you sustain any damage during the Christchurch quakes?
I'm in Wellington, so too far away for damage. Like many others here, I didn't even feel the shaking, however I work for a government agency, so we went into full emergency mode after the February quake and I got pulled off my regular job for a little bit. Just hearing the reports coming through from people on the ground made me really conscious of what it would take to get through a disaster of any kind.
That is crazy. Glad you both are safe!!! Great post as usual though. You certainly know how to take the best out of every situation and turn it around! BTW, I use a Flip too. I LOVE my Flip! - Nicole
Thank you! Safe and sooo appreciative of a hot shower! :) Yay for Flips! Aren't they just the best?
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