I have seen the future and this is what it looks like; a generator with a power strip.
In the days following mega storm Sandy the northeast coastline continues to suffer with power outages, demolished real estate, and downed trees. We lost power in the East Village at the point of high tide on Monday evening, everything below 40th Street became what I coined as the ‘blackout zone.’
Since Katrina, forecasters here have been preparing for storm serge and high winds. Public officials papered the streets of New York with evacuation regions, the most significant, Zone A to B and C as warning of low-lying areas. Surveying the neighborhood, the waterfront was hit hard, lots of downed trees and the power station on the East River failed at around 9:00pm, I was cut off immediately from friends and family but I had my candles sitting ready.
For the most part, I think a majority of New Yorkers carried on with great perseverance; however, with storms of this nature rare, there are those few that make a difficult situation worse. Compassion and curtesy are lost when common sense is disregarded and individuals cannot be bothered with inconvenience.
In this new wireless, handheld society the demand for electricity is the new crisis when power fails and what I witnessed Day 1 of the aftermath, I call it, “The Great Outlet Migration.”
I am not sure which word is more appropriate, covet or hoard, it is a matter of perspective as my neighbor along with hundreds of others made our daily pilgrimage to civilization, but once we reached the lighted zone, it was anything but civilized. Trying to find an unmanned outlet was like the proverbial ‘needle in a haystack.’ It was interesting to see forward thinkers carry power strips because they have multiple devices that require juice.
All around Grand Central Terminal uniformed officers try to initiate a very limited transportation program with the Subway system crippled by flood waters. Long lines, lots of yelling, and chaos as officers use megaphones to direct crowds to buses assigned to assist workers back to their homes in the outer boroughs also in the mix flashing lights and tireless sirens.
Crossing wide avenues without red lights felt like a game of chicken, worrying if vehicles were going to slow down to allow pedestrians the ‘right of way.’ We were not in a state of lawlessness nor were their reports of looting that triggers memories of news reports of the blackout of the 1970s. We worked together, pooled our resources, and made the best of the situation here at 45 First Avenue.
Each day of the blackout my neighbor and I walked forty blocks to and from for a warm meal, to restock, and to power our devices. Each day there was a new source of the humble collection of people trying to bring to life humanity in it’s best light even in the darkness. The hum of generators began to bring little hot spots to each neighborhood affected by the storm and it became more bearable for the East Village everyday.
