Hurricane Sandy
The story thus far:
Sunday we decided that with Bloomberg assigning our neighbourhood a “Zone A” evacuation notice, we would take the Barans up on their invitation to hole up with them in midtown – a long way from the water, and well sheltered from the worst of the winds. As it turns out, it was a good call – we have yet to confirm the details, but Marjorie found a blog that said the water reached a block beyond our building. On Sunday, along with many others, we headed out. We had no trouble getting a car, and we lugged all the gear that you need for four days away with a baby.
As we watched the non-stop news coverage at the Barans, we would compare the mounting epic disaster crawling up the coast on screen to the relative calm outside our window. Chris broiled some excellent steaks. It all seemed a long way away.
Monday things shifted up a notch. The trains had shut down at 7pm the night before. No subway, no LIRR, no PATH. The highways shut down one by one. Things were still quiet enough in midtown, so I took the camera for a walk up to Grand Central, thinking a long shot down a deserted Park Ave would be worth a wet walk. I had brought my rain gear – both for me and the camera – so I was set. The wind sounded like jet planes over head, and a really eerie moaning whistle lower down. But there were still plenty of people around. Tourists, idiots, and cameramen. Getting that iconic shot of a deserted Manhattan was much easier said than done. I got what I could, carefully selected for dramatic effect. Most places were closed. A few restaurants stayed open, and they were all doing gangbuster business. I had a slice of pizza at a deli while I warmed up and checked the water protection on the camera, and then I texted the fam that I was headed back. No rush. Still might get lucky. The wind and rain were definitely picking up. Fewer people on the streets, and those walking fast with their heads down.
I took a few more pics. Got a couple half decent ones by the library and looking down 5th. Then I got hit by a truck.
Yeah, that part sucked.
This black SUV was motoring down 5th, certainly trying to get home before the storm really hit. The streets were all but empty and as I said, pedestrians were sparse. Nevertheless, I was crossing with the signal and I have bloody big red stripes on my coat. I’m hard to miss. Except by that guy. So he just wasn’t looking. Possibly, being a New York driver, he did see me, and planned to cut close past me. They do that. Anyway, his mirror took me in the camera hand. The mirror slammed back, and his side panel smashed my arm into my side. I flew 10 or 20 feet, I don’t recall, but I landed on my feet as he sloshed to a stop. I already knew I was ok, because, as I was sailing through the air, I clearly recall thinking, “I will be damned if I’m taking another $500 ambulance ride.” Still, the practical side of me thought, “I hope my ribs aren’t broken.”
Then, he was out of the truck and asking if I was ok. I gasped that I was not, but I was already taking inventory of body parts. A couple on the other side of 5th was hurrying across, and since they could see I was still standing, they stole my line, “Is the camera ok?” I tottered back over to the truck as he babbled, and tried to bend over to retrieve the camera. I couldn’t make it, so he obliged. I checked the lens and made sure it still turned on, all the while trying to keep up with his well-intentioned chatter. I noted that all my fingers still worked, though the pointer and pinky were protesting the effort. I reckoned that the fact I could hold the camera up probably spoke well for my ribs. The sorest spot was where the iPhone in my chest pocket had been smashed up against me.
He said he’d get me his card, but after a few moments of searching he said he couldn’t find one. I gave him mine and asked him to get in touch, just so I could tell him I was ok. That would be important to me, in his shoes. Whether he couldn’t find a card, or had a panicked moment of lawsuit dodging, it doesn’t really matter. If I were a different sort of person, I could have taken a picture of his licence plate. Probably could have taken his picture too. But I was glad to be alive, glad I wouldn’t have to add a mountain of worry to Marjorie on the cusp of a hurricane, and glad my camera seemed fine. I asked him to please slow down, shook his hand (gingerly) and sent him on his way.
As I continued on my own way, my mood for photography somewhat abated, I thought about my relatively close call. If I had been one step farther forward, I would have been hospitalized without a doubt. Smooshed. One step. Maybe a quarter second. In such ways fate is measured. Next time I sign off asking you to go hug somebody, you best get off your punk ass and go hug somebody.
So I got a few interesting pictures, and a fun little story about using up one of my lives. When I got back to the Barans, the beer was cold and dinner was hot. Bloomberg tersely ordered all cabs and livery cars off the road, and without using the word asshat said that everyone still within an evacuation zone would have to stay put, and forget about rescue for the duration.
Later than night, the water peaked at 13.8 feet. Cars floated. Transformers popped. A substation literally exploded. We lost power. No problem – Rita stocks plenty of candles, we’d filled every available container with water, and we had plenty of food. And despite it being the end of October in New York, it’s not that cold. So we’re good. By far the biggest difficulty is the lack of power. Can’t charge the phones or run the laptop. How’s a man to keep writing? And I’ve got a website to launch! And a software project to manage!
Throughout the tristate area, 5 million people are without power. In New York state, it’s 2.4 million. And in Manhattan, that’s supposedly a quarter million customers. If you walk up past 39th Street, you’d hardly know we just had a hurricane, much less a massive power outage. It’s business as usual. Which is excellent if you need a pint. Same old bumper to bumper honking traffic, same throngs of pedestrians tourist and otherwise. I reckon I will make that hike tomorrow so I can get some work done with Lee. In a pub, I’m sure. Right now a bunch of us are at the Redken Exchange (5th at 46th), catching up, washing hair, getting colored. Very civilized. Avery has been meeting lots of new people with wide-eyed pleasure. She loves an adventure, so long as Mum isn’t too far away with the food supply. We were wise to bring four diapers.
So to everyone reading this from outside New York, we just had the biggest storm this town has ever seen, but this little family is fine. Water climbed 13.8 feet to drown much of the coastal neighborhoods. Billions of dollars damage. 29 lives lost state-wide, most because of tree-falls. Within the space of crossing a street, however, it’s like nothing happened. Crazy. They’re saying it might be a week (we’re at the end of Day 2) before power can be restored to midtown because basically the substation needs a new substation. Did you see that explosion? The subway will be coming back online very slowly as well. The flooded stations in Lower Manhattan – 5 feet of water along 60 miles of track – have to be cleared one pumper car at a time, apparently. Then the tracks have to be assessed for safety, and salt water damage repaired. Amazingly, some trains are back up with partial routes already. We won’t hold our breath for the 7 line. It crosses under the East River, so, yeah. But the bridges are open, and most of the tunnels. New York wastes no time, ladies and gentlemen. Hats off to the recovery crews.
I’d like to take the camera for a walk tonight (looking both ways twice before crossing, TYVM) to see if I can get some decent shots of that divide. Didn’t bring a tripod though. Will have to make do.
I imagine it will be a couple days at best before we get power back at the Barans. It’s conceivable power will be restored at our place in Long Island City first. We’ll invite the Barans over there of course, but it’s hard to say if they’d come. Available power and hot showers versus the inconvenience of being isolated in the hinterland. We’ll see. Phone lines are still out on Long Island, so we can’t get in touch with our building to see when it’s ok to come back. We’ll hang tight, I guess.
This has been a bit of a ramble. Apologies. I just wanted to get some of it down before we had to move on. All the laptops and phones are charged up and Marjorie’s hair color is about ready for a rinse. Looking good. Time to think about food. Oh – my arm and ribs are fine. The muscles are sore as f**k, and it’s a process getting out of bed, but you won’t catch me complaining. Life is awesome. And so far, no sign of zombies.
Actually, I’ll just close here with a rave about my incredible wife. I can’t imagine a better partner for something like this. Maybe a ninja. But seriously. She’s calm, organized, forward thinking. And pretty hot. She takes wonderful care of Avery while appreciating my help. We are a dynamic and stable team. I love her madly. And my daughter. What an idyllic little loving family. Just nauseating, really.
Lucky.
Now go hug someone.
