This is hardly late-breaking news, but we had some serious weather here this week. Like most New Yorkers, we didn’t take the impending storm all that seriously. I mean, we had a hurricane last year. It was kind of a non-event.
Nonetheless, I woke up on Sunday and realized we should probably prepare at least a little. We had nothing to eat in our house (almost very literally nothing: one slice of bread, some hummus that had gone off, and a handful of baby carrots), so I ran out to the bodega. (It was far too early to brave the Pathmark.) It’s fair to say it was a haphazard shopping trip: bread, dried split peas, apples, chicken broth, bacon, one can of soup, and gum.
We made a real trip to the Pathmark later that afternoon.
And then a follow-up trip that night for ice cream and beer.
And then we were ready for the hurricane.
Neither of us went to work on Monday, but we definitely worked. At one point I was leading a conference call from the couch, while he was participating in one in the bedroom. (Good thing we don’t live in a studio anymore.) The wind was howling outside, but, from where we live, it didn’t seem particularly hurricane-like.
We can see the Manhattan skyline from our window, and we were looking out the window when that ConEd substation exploded. The sky lit up green and flickered, and, if it weren’t for the context, I would have been convinced aliens were descending onto the planet. We watched as more transformers blew and lower Manhattan fell dark.
We were lucky. Our neighborhood fared the storm well: we didn’t lose power, we didn’t lose water, we didn’t have any flooding. We have to cram onto shuttle busses to get to Manhattan, but that’s only an inconvenience. My heart goes out to all the people who lost their homes or loved ones in the storm.