2003-08-17 - 8:48 p.m.
My Blackout Adventure
I have to wonder why I’m even writing this, because I am SO SICK of hearing about the Great Blackout of 2003, but as it was happening, all I could think was, “Wow, this is gonna be some journal entry!” So, here it is.
I was in NYC this week. I took the train in on Tuesday. The train ride was pretty nice. Relaxing. Got there late, of course. I showed up at my cousin’s door on the Upper West Side at about 7:45 pm. My cousin Jaimee lives in a lovely apartment with her husband Michael and their 7-year-old, who I will call Banana. She’s a sweetie. Oh, and their dog, who I lavished with attention the second I walked in.
On Wednesday, Mom and my cousin Ilene and her daughter Rachel and our other cousin Gail came into the city for “Cousins Day”. We had a great lunch at Ruby Foo’s, shopped a little, went to see Urinetown. It was OK, by the way. I need to see it again to make a more fair assessment. But anyway. Mom’s bus left at 5:45, so we parted ways and I went to Central Park for Banana’s birthday party. It was awesome, by the way. Hot and sticky, but awesome. Jaimee’s friends were lovely to me, the kids were cute… A good time.
I also left a couple of messages with Todd. I adore Todd. We have a good time together. I was looking forward to some drinkin’ and some eatin’.
Thursday morning, I took the subway out to Queens to go to a museum. Michael gave me explicit instructions, so I was pretty confident on the subway, which was new. That was the first time I’d ever been on the NYC subway alone. Bow to my subway-riding prowess, peons!
Uh, yeah, whatever.
Anyway. So. I went to the museum at 11 am. Walked out a little over an hour later. Checked my voice mail. Todd had called, and he suggested dinner in Union Square, then going to see a friend’s band in the Village. Yay! I was so psyched. I wanted drinks. I wanted to tell him all about my crazy day with my mother and how she drove me crazy. I called him back, left a message on his voice mail, and headed back into Manhattan.
12:45: I got off the subway at Fifth Avenue and 59th, and took a walk. I love walking in New York. However, I had picked lunch time on a sunny day, so the streets were pretty crowded. Eh, whatever. I walked over towards 52nd Street and went in search of a sushi place. I found one. An expensive one. But fuck it, I was in New York, there is very little sushi to be had in Syracuse, and it was good. Todd called while I was eating, and we had a little laugh about my crazy mother, and he said, “You’ll tell me all about it tonight.” Woo! Chicken fried steak! Lovely bald man to stare at while he laughs at my jokes!
1:35: I made my way to 52nd Street and the Museum of Television and Radio. I stopped on the way at the ATM, just because. I figured I might be at the Museum all day, and I needed cash. Then I went into the museum and caught a couple of screenings.
3:55: I had some time between screenings, so I went to the library. I watched Eddie Murphy’s Delirious and started laughing my ass off. And THEN…
4:20, or whenever it was: The lights flickered. Then they went out. OK, whatever. Power surge. We all waited. And waited. Then the director of the museum came in and told us it was a power outage and he’d like us to all go downstairs. I grabbed my bag and walked down—only 2 flights, thank G-d. On the way out, I made some joke to the director, and he said an employee had called her girlfriend on the East Side, and their power was out too.
Grrrrrrrrreat.
The street wasn’t crazy. Yet. My cell phone only worked occasionally. I called Todd. His lights were flickering at work, and he mentioned that if the trains weren’t running, he couldn’t get downtown. He told me to keep my phone on. I tried to call Jaimee. The phone didn’t work. No one’s phone was working. Then the people started pouring into the street. I went into a deli for some water, figuring it would be a good time to get that. Then I found a spot on the sidewalk near a woman’s car—she had opened her car door and turned the radio up. That’s when we heard that it was city-wide, state-wide and close to nation-wide.
I tried to call Mom. Didn’t work. I kept trying. I tried to use my cell phone at least 50 times that day. I also kept turning it off to conserve the battery, which was almost gone.
I remembered that Jaimee worked near Bryant Park. I asked someone for directions. “You’re visiting?” she asked. “Yeah.” “Oh, no!” “Oh, it’s OK. I’m staying with family. I’m just going to find them, and figure it out from there.” “Good luck!”
That was the theme for the afternoon. Everyone exchanged pleasant words and looks—I even made brief eye contact with an older man, and we both started laughing at the absurdity of it all—and it kind of bonded people. I guess that as soon as everyone realized it wasn’t an attack on the city, we all decided to enjoy it and have a laugh. And, of course, it was still light out, which helped.
The streets were chaotic. Traffic lights were out, so blocks became parking lots. I walked down the middle of 47th—why bother with the sidewalk anyway? Intersections were free-for-alls, and they involved a lot of dirty looks and running. People weren’t mean, but it was a crazy scene. I started chatting up a man at an intersection, and it turned out he was a reporter for the Christian Science Monitor-- I gave him a few good quotes how I was just going to get a hot dog and keep walking. He liked that.
I couldn’t find Bryant Park. I was probably about a block away, but I just gave up. What could I do? I decided to turn around and walk.
So I walked. I walked up Fifth, then hated the crowds, so I walked up Sixth. I kept walking. I had my water and my hot dog and my diet Pepsi (hey, I needed the fuel), so I was set. Miraculously, I didn’t have to pee. Then I was faced with the Park.
I had been to Central Park ONCE—the night before. I had no clue where I was. So I found a directory, asked someone which street I should stick to, and I walked. I rested a little. I tried my phone some more. I watched the people walking. I was one of the few who didn’t have a walking companion, and that was my first moment of sadness and slight panic. It would have been so nice to have someone to walk with.
I got out of the Park at about 87th Street, but I was on the East Side. Jaimee lives on WEST 98th. Oy. So I walked across the Park and out. And over. I stopped someone to make sure I was headed in the right direction, and I made it. I had been walking for three hours. I walked at least 60 blocks. Through the Park. In the heat. I must have been coated in sweat. My feet were hurting, but not too much. I made it to the building and breathed a HUGE sigh of relief. Then I walked up 8 flights of stairs.
What if they weren’t home? What would I do? Where would I go? If they didn’t come home, where were they and how would I reach them? Where would I stay?
They were home. Well, Michael and Banana and the dog were home. Thank G-d. Jaimee was nowhere to be found. I got in the shower and put on some pajamas, and we traded theories about her whereabouts. A few minutes later, she showed up, dripping with sweat. She had gone to her friend’s husband’s store, and he’d given her a ride home—AFTER he, a jeweler, enlisted five guys to manually lower his security gate, which took forever.
We spent a hot night listening to the radio. We ate PB&J sandwiches. Banana went to sleep way early, at about nine, and I stayed up, finally drifting off at about 11, then waking up again at about 4:30 am. At 6:15, the phone rang-- Jaimee’s sister called to tell us the power went on. I slept for another couple of hours, then got up, charged my phone, made the appropriate calls.
We went out for breakfast. The city was weird. Half the stores were closed. People were lining up at the ones that were open. We found out the trains weren’t running, subway or Amtrak, so I was stuck in the city. Oy.
I also kept trying to call Todd. His phone didn’t work, either cell or at work. I was getting pretty concerned. He finally called at 2 pm, when I was in the park with my cousins and a family friend and her kids. He was OK, but he didn’t think he’d be going to Manhattan to hang with me. Oh, well.
So I spent Friday with my cousins, just lounging around. We went out for dinner. I played with the dog. We made the decision that I would go to Philly with them on Saturday (they were planning to do that anyway) and my grandparents would pick me up and I would spend the day with them. Which I did.
(Sidebar: The exchange of the weekend went like this: Grandpop put a half-finished, stopper-ed bottle of wine in the trunk. Grandmom said, “If he got wine on my car, I’m gonna brain him with the fucking bottle.” Grandpop turned around and said, “Who are you fucking?” G-d bless ‘em.)
And now I’m back in Syracuse. And that was my adventure. And I had a great time, except I didn’t get to see Todd. Oh, well. And I didn’t get to do some of the things I wanted to do in New York, but I guess it’s just a reason to go back, huh? And after all, Todd pointed out that I lived through New York's biggest catastrophe since 9/11, so I guess that's something, seeing history happen in front of you.
And fuckin' a! SIXTY BLOCKS! I have one-upmanship for a loooooooong time.
