Chronicles Continued

…to catch a bus, on 42nd Street, going out of the City, the lines are a City block long, the long side of the block.  And it is dark and cold and today snowing! The lines at the subway for the trains that are running. The first line of a conversation, heard repeatedly, “so how did you fair? Are you under water, did you lose power”? The lines at the liquor store. The lines of words on pages being read by those still house bound. The pick up lines at the bars, because more people are gathering to be with others, than to stay at home alone. The direct prayer line some people are invoking to stop another disaster from happening, as foul weather is forecast for tonight.  The lines of divers still operating on Staten Island looking for bodies in the water.  The lines are endless…

…Students who can’t get to classes in the City because they don’t have a car and there is no public transportation. One student who did make it explained how his life had changed during the power outage. He and his girlfriend spoke about things they never have the time to talk about in their busy lives. He read a book by candle light. And he said they had lots of time to do ‘other things’. I suggested that he watch for the stats that will show a bulge in the birth of babies in 9 months; Never seems to fail. One is reminded constantly that so many are affected by the storm: one theatre production is on hold because the directors house on Staten Island has 7 feet of water in the basement and all the effects of that. Another foreign production has come and will leave without performing because their venue had no electricity during the 4 days they were scheduled to perform. The marathon was cancelled, except for the group that organized their own in Central Park to the outcry of anyone who heard about it.

HilaryH suggested that gasoline is also being diverted to run the generators. And the generators are so necessary for families with children against the cold, and hospitals and nursing homes and for the mcmansions that have to keep every room like it is all the time… sorry, that slipped in.

Nothing like it. The flip of a switch and there’s illumination. Electricity is restored to my little corner of the world. As I enthuse, let me not forget to remember and aid those still in the dark.

A once busy street is now quiet – mid morning. This is the route of the M20 bus. The street never flooded. The second picture is further up the street.  Under the awning notice the coffee shop patrons collected outside.  No electricity.  All coffee is now being made via gas stoves and machines attached to gas.

The small blue stickers read, NYC drinking water.  This is a cart on wheels with 6 spigot

The M20 bus runs North all the way from Tribeca on Hudson St and then 8th Avenue to 59th and Columbus Circle, in the dark of night. Concurrently the M11 travels South on 9th Avenue. Inexplicably the chauffeur of the southbound M11 announces, somewhere around 34th St, that the last stop for the bus is 25th. This means that a bus, chock-full of passengers disgorges them into the black of night, even though it is only 7:00 pm.  Said passengers now must walk the rest of the way that the bus normally travels which is another 17 blocks. What is the thought behind that? At first I thought it was for the bus chauffeurs’ safety, but what about the 50 odd souls who are now groping in some cases,  in the dark.

Looking out the front window of the bus heading South, the line of demarcation between lights and no lights is as clearly defined as if a velvet curtain had been hung.  The feeling is that if the bus or car continued it would actually have to pierce the veil.

[Walking along one dark stretch that boarders a park on one side and tall buildings on the other, I felt apprehension.  What if the person passing me on the right just decided to go for some cash that most everyone in the neighborhood is sure to be carrying.  Not only would no one see what was happening, but there was no way to locate the sound if it should occur.  I walked a little faster.]

At about 1:00 am, the full moon was available to light the streets.  It made all the difference to the late night dog walkers and those walking the streets on their way to somewhere.

The corner trash containers are full to over-flowing and the number of trash trucks that pass them by, are more than I can track.

The New York Times has written, printed and delivered copies of the paper all over town each day.

You can drop off your laundry at the same place you do each week, only now they drive it to Brooklyn to wash, dry and redeliver to where you dropped it off.

You can have a cooked meal at the local diner on 8th, which is packed, because their menu is all short order, eggs, bacon, toast, and their large grill is gas.  Nothing fancy, just the basics. The diner is narrow and so even though there are no lights, the large plate-glass windows make it light enough.

If you have cash you can shop at:  the chocolate shop, the magazine store, the liquor store, the local drug store all on 8th, the store that sells locally made products, a deli that sells packaged chips and non-perishable snacks and a national chain drugstore also opened their doors.  A local coffee shop is boiling and brewing and all the customers are communing on the sidewalk, having moved the tables and chairs outside.

On 14th St and 8th, the wind caught the top corner of a facade that was rather badly pasted onto this building that functions as a boarding house and pulled the front off and dropped it onto the street.  The interior looks like a badly arranged doll’s house.

Everyone may ride the MTA buses for free until further notice; the buses are standing room only.  Because they are so crowded, spontaneous conversations erupt.  One lady said she hoped she made it to the liquor store before it closed; white wine just doesn’t cut it in this situation.  A family I had seen riding the M20 North hours previously, was on the same M11 South. They had gone all the way to 69th to trick or treat for their kids.

That more food trucks don’t dot the corners of The Village.

The Trucks that make available phone charging for a fee.

 

Tuesday. Did not rise with the dawn, but with a knock on the door by one of the neighbors. The electricity and cell are still out and the radio is bringing news of all sorts of disasters. Of course those in the group that were fanatic TV watchers were completely deprived of all visuals that the rest of you no doubt were watching. The following was missed: the mangled crane hanging atop the building on 57th street, literally blowin’ in the wind; the ConEd transformer blowing up on E 14th Street, a most unexpected and impacting occurrence; the views of the Village from the air showing it all dark the previous night and now sparsely populated. From our view we watched what little traffic there was navigate without stop lights, the flower shop across the street opened and set up a card table in front of their door.  They began selling candles, batteries, flashlights all for cash and were doing a land office business.  As the morning turned to afternoon and more and more residents took to the street to walk, this was the only available place for tens-of-blocks to purchase anything.  And strollers like to shop. It was obvious that the day was going to be a long one, but I found two things utterly amazing:  1. we all had water!  I don’t know how or why, but the water continued to flow into each and every apartment.  If one is in the country, the pump that moves the water from the well to the house, runs on electricity, and hence the need for a bathtub full of water in each bathroom.  Not here.  So if you have water, you are already way ahead of the game.  The next thing, #2 is the gas stove in each apartment.  One match-strike and you have hot pots with water, soup, popcorn, tea or coffee water; there is no limit to what can be cooked.  And the more items in the now-not- functioning-refrigerator, the more interesting the choices.  However, all of that in-house activity does begin to fade as time wears on. There is no theatre, no auditions, no classes, no mail, no laundry, and all the other things that take up everyone’s day in activities.  So having reached my point of cabin fever, I went outside and cleaned the sidewalk for 40 feet from the building to the curb.  I had seen street cleaning machines coming and going up the street and hoped they would do ours.  Also it was clear that people are more respectful when the sidewalk is cleared.  Otherwise it is too easy to drop that paper cup, plastic bag, dog poop, it all gets lost in the pile of debris.  It felt good, that swinging motion of raking leaves, shoveling snow.  Night fell quickly and when there is no ambient light, it is really dark.  It is cloudy apparently and so no benefit from the apparently full moon.  [the place where I am writing this is closing… so more to come]