Sandy, you bitch
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It wasn't that bad really. At least not in Brooklyn. Cesar and I were supposed to go to the Jets game. Given the dire predictions and closed subways, we decided to watch the game at Plan B. It was supposed to rain all afternoon, but didn't. After the Jets had lost and the Cowboys had won, I walked home without an umbrella.
The wind was fierce though. The windows rattled all night. The rain finally picked up. Not much, but it was coming down horizontally. It was the storm surge that got us. I live in Prospect Heights, at least 80 feet above sea level, so like I said, it wasn't really that bad. I called my dad in the middle of the storm to tell him we still had electricity, and that New York should be fine, given that all the power lines are buried underground.
Like I said, it was the storm surge that got us.
Shortly after speaking with him, the lights went out in Manhattan.
I woke up the next morning to my alarm, took a hot shower, then went to work because the owner a) didn't understand the magnanimity of the storm and b) would never know how to communicate that the store had closed to his employees or the outside world. Thankfully, I left by 5:00pm. I rode home past the scattered tree branches, then set out for a run into Manhattan.
The first site was from Dumbo. The water had receded and I could get as far as the fencing around Brooklyn Bridge Park. I looked out at Manhattan: south of 34th Street was black. Lighting across the Williamsburg Bridge started at the halfway point, then flowed into the bright lights of Brooklyn. The Manhattan side of the bridge was dark.
Same with the Brooklyn Bridge. I ran across it, staring into the silent darkness of Manhattan. Even World Trade One was enveloped in darkness.
The streets of Chinatown were pitch black. One man carried a flashlight, its swaying beam giving an apocalyptic feel. I ran down the sidestreets. Alone. Total silence around me. Not a soul in the streets. Where did all of these people go?
Scared isn't the correct word. Acutely aware. Uneasy. These are better descriptions.
I wanted a picture of the darkened streets. Given the lack of lighting, I would need to stand my camera against something - the slightest movement would cause a blurry picture. I found an SUV and leaned against the back window, propping the camera against the top luggage rack. I never touch cars in New York, but with the empty neighborhood, I felt brazen enough to lean against it. Suddenly the ignition to the car clicked. Two people were in the front seat. Freaked, I took off running. Fast. Race fast. Around the nearest corner and no gun blasts and I was again alone in Chinatown. So that's where everyone went.
Next in the line-up of destruction was the Battery. The ocean had receded. The waves sounded so calm as they gently lapped against the decks below. Sandbags everywhere. Lower Manhattan loomed above. Dark. Silent.
Through Battery Park and what usually contains more than a couple of rats scurrying down the paths. This time, I heard one. I don't even want to know where the rest went.
Through Lower Manhattan, up Broad Street, and suddenly, the New York Stock Exchange, bathed in red, white, and blue lights. Such an inspirational site. I scurried up to the statue of George Washington, with his calm hand outstretched, and looked out at the darkness. Then over to those lights. This is the greatest city in the world. It'll be back.
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View more picturesIt wasn't that bad really. At least not in Brooklyn. Cesar and I were supposed to go to the Jets game. Given the dire predictions and closed subways, we decided to watch the game at Plan B. It was supposed to rain all afternoon, but didn't. After the Jets had lost and the Cowboys had won, I walked home without an umbrella.The wind was fierce though. The windows rattled all night. The rain finally picked up. Not much, but it was coming down horizontally. It was the storm surge that got us. I live in Prospect Heights, at least 80 feet above sea level, so like I said, it wasn't really that bad. I called my dad in the middle of the storm to tell him we still had electricity, and that New York should be fine, given that all the power lines are buried underground.Like I said, it was the storm surge that got us.
Shortly after speaking with him, the lights went out in Manhattan.I woke up the next morning to my alarm, took a hot shower, then went to work because the owner a) didn't understand the magnanimity of the storm and b) would never know how to communicate that the store had closed to his employees or the outside world. Thankfully, I left by 5:00pm. I rode home past the scattered tree branches, then set out for a run into Manhattan.The first site was from Dumbo. The water had receded and I could get as far as the fencing around Brooklyn Bridge Park. I looked out at Manhattan: south of 34th Street was black. Lighting across the Williamsburg Bridge started at the halfway point, then flowed into the bright lights of Brooklyn. The Manhattan side of the bridge was dark.Same with the Brooklyn Bridge. I ran across it, staring into the silent darkness of Manhattan. Even World Trade One was enveloped in darkness.The streets of Chinatown were pitch black. One man carried a flashlight, its swaying beam giving an apocalyptic feel. I ran down the sidestreets. Alone. Total silence around me. Not a soul in the streets. Where did all of these people go?Scared isn't the correct word. Acutely aware. Uneasy. These are better descriptions.
I wanted a picture of the darkened streets. Given the lack of lighting, I would need to stand my camera against something - the slightest movement would cause a blurry picture. I found an SUV and leaned against the back window, propping the camera against the top luggage rack. I never touch cars in New York, but with the empty neighborhood, I felt brazen enough to lean against it. Suddenly the ignition to the car clicked. Two people were in the front seat. Freaked, I took off running. Fast. Race fast. Around the nearest corner and no gun blasts and I was again alone in Chinatown. So that's where everyone went.Next in the line-up of destruction was the Battery. The ocean had receded. The waves sounded so calm as they gently lapped against the decks below. Sandbags everywhere. Lower Manhattan loomed above. Dark. Silent.
Through Battery Park and what usually contains more than a couple of rats scurrying down the paths. This time, I heard one. I don't even want to know where the rest went.Through Lower Manhattan, up Broad Street, and suddenly, the New York Stock Exchange, bathed in red, white, and blue lights. Such an inspirational site. I scurried up to the statue of George Washington, with his calm hand outstretched, and looked out at the darkness. Then over to those lights. This is the greatest city in the world. It'll be back.
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