In the middle of a night of drinking, communal eating, and smoking with the neighbors, I looked out the window to see a giant flash of blue light followed shortly by darkness.
It was lights out in the East Village! Still not the worst thing. We all thought the power would be back by midnight, or the morning at the latest. How wrong we were. Alphabet City, only a few blocks away, had cars floating up and down the streets. We woke up to downed trees, no traffic lights, no power, no hot water, no cell phone service, no internet, nothing.
There were long lines for every pay phone and every open pizza parlor (because apparently disaster-readiness is not in the HipsterHandbook). No subways, no buses, taxis taking multiple fares — well, the taxi drivers who were nice, that is.
It felt strange to be unconnected and completely cut off from the rest of the city. Before cellular service winked out, I managed to see that power was out from 39th Street down. That giant flash of light? A transformer explosion — which ConEdison now disputes, but what the heck else could it be? Aliens?!
Once I found out that power might not be restored till the weekend, I did what any good little BaconBiscuit would do: I packed up my bacon and all of my frozen meats and sent them to a safe freezer in Brooklyn (Thank you, Niki and Dave!).
Then I packed up and decamped to a friend’s luxury apartment on the Upper East Side. She has power, internet, hot water, cable television, and a dishwasher! Ooooh! Fancy!
Seriously, it’s like the hurricane didn’t happen up here. I saw people at Gymboree and eating sushi! I bought brook trout at Fairway!
Downtown? It’s like the great NYC Blackout all over again.
I feel like a refugee in my own town, but am safe and sound. Thank you all for checking in!
More photos of the downed trees behind my building below. I took them before my cell died!