Well, that was fun...
Aug. 15th, 2003 01:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
malsperanzaYay. Power is back at home, but not at office, and subways are still not running. This is ideal: I am forced to stay home, drink coffee, and mess about. Am virtuously not switching on the AC, as the city is still only at 50% capacity.
Unlike 1977, when the city was wrecked by looting, arson, and a heartbreaking, futile rage, last night was delightful: Walked uptown with a couple of colleagues. Broadway was a 100-block party. Times Square crammed with disoriented tourists (hey, where's the lights?) and suburbanites wondering whether they could walk to New Jersey via the Lincoln Tunnel, or what. Citizen volunteers were directing traffic with verve and panache, if not efficiency.
In front of Zabar's they were hawking discounted orange juice and hunks of fancy cheese, shouting out the names like a bizarre revision of the Monty Python Cheese Shop skit ("Boursin, one dollah one dollah!" "Here!" "St. Marcellin!" "Yo!" "Robiola" "Got it!"). We kept stopping to drink sangria, beer, whatever else the cafes were selling fast, before their ice melted.
Got home rather buzzed and sat all evening in the pitch dark on my stoop with all my (invisible) neighbors, drinking more beer (courtesy of someone who lives on the 3rd floor) and watching Mars rise over the rooftops. It was gorgeous: I've never seen the red color of the planet so clearly.
We concluded that the blackout was a PSA from NASA, arranged so that urbanites could learn basic astronomy. Either that, or Martians did it as a publicity stunt.
Am suspicious, though: Was blackout really caused by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
epicyclicalplugging in The Beast just when queerasjohn was putting the final touches on his electric glitter experiment? Or massive drain of power to Massachusetts due to tromboneborges's reboot?
Well, the federal investigation will no doubt reveal all.
Later, walked down to the little restaurant in Riverside Park, which has a nonelectric grill and was doing a land-office business in burgers, salads, and lukewarm beer.
What do New Yorkers do in a crisis?
Eat out.
Unlike 1977, when the city was wrecked by looting, arson, and a heartbreaking, futile rage, last night was delightful: Walked uptown with a couple of colleagues. Broadway was a 100-block party. Times Square crammed with disoriented tourists (hey, where's the lights?) and suburbanites wondering whether they could walk to New Jersey via the Lincoln Tunnel, or what. Citizen volunteers were directing traffic with verve and panache, if not efficiency.
In front of Zabar's they were hawking discounted orange juice and hunks of fancy cheese, shouting out the names like a bizarre revision of the Monty Python Cheese Shop skit ("Boursin, one dollah one dollah!" "Here!" "St. Marcellin!" "Yo!" "Robiola" "Got it!"). We kept stopping to drink sangria, beer, whatever else the cafes were selling fast, before their ice melted.
Got home rather buzzed and sat all evening in the pitch dark on my stoop with all my (invisible) neighbors, drinking more beer (courtesy of someone who lives on the 3rd floor) and watching Mars rise over the rooftops. It was gorgeous: I've never seen the red color of the planet so clearly.
We concluded that the blackout was a PSA from NASA, arranged so that urbanites could learn basic astronomy. Either that, or Martians did it as a publicity stunt.
Am suspicious, though: Was blackout really caused by
epicyclicalplugging in The Beast just when queerasjohn was putting the final touches on his electric glitter experiment? Or massive drain of power to Massachusetts due to tromboneborges's reboot? Well, the federal investigation will no doubt reveal all.
Later, walked down to the little restaurant in Riverside Park, which has a nonelectric grill and was doing a land-office business in burgers, salads, and lukewarm beer.
What do New Yorkers do in a crisis?
Eat out.
