As the sounds of concern, sirens and helicopters passed through the windows, I was reminded of 1977. Back then the city’s buildings burned, glass shattered and citizens regressed to savage creatures. Stealing what they could while the alarms were silenced. It was now very late in the night and I am trying to get to sleep. Instead of counting sheep, I opted instead to recap the days events.
At 4:11 pm on 8/14/03 the lights in my little office on the 42nd floor flickered and then went dark. As was the case with every office on my floor. At first we all assumed it was a result of the clean up effort. Recently a pipe had burst on the 44th floor causing floods and mayhem on many of the floors below. Including mine. For some time now we’ve had to deal with industrial dehumidifiers and blowers trying to dry out the building. We had only 3 elevators and no freight. Carpeting was being pulled up, wallpaper pealed back and walls torn down to try and combat the inevitable growth of mold.
Soon we would discover that it was the whole building, then Manhattan, all of NYC, NY state and on and on. We scrambled to make phone calls and listen to the emergency announcements on our loud speaker system. Memories of 9/11 were fresh and thoughts of an attack were in our heads though not spoken out loud by too many.
The time had come to make a decision. Should we stay and see if the power would return, or leave? Being 42 floors up, leaving was not a pleasant option. In a matter of only minutes, we heard how far this blackout had reached. So the decision was easy. It was off to get bottles of water and begin my decent of 42 floors to a hot 50th and Broadway below.
Once there, I was met by thousands of lost souls. Among the crowd were my coworkers. We gathered around this ridiculously large cardboard radio meant to hang on a child’s wall. It was the only one we could find. Cell phones were near useless and the panic began to set in.
My legs trembled from the climb and now I needed to get to New Jersey. I met 2 of my friends, Alexa and Ashlin and we began to walk down 8th Avenue. Obviously there would be no trains running in a blackout. My plan was to get a bus at the Port Authority Building and make my way home.
As we came upon the massive sweaty crowd standing lifeless in the intersection of 42nd and 8th, it was clear that there were no busses. In fact, the building was closed completely. I could have gone to the ferry, but there was a 4-6 hour wait. Even if I did get back to Weehawkin, NJ by boat I would still be miles from home.
I wrote down Ashlin’s address as a precaution but, since they had not gotten very far ahead of me yet, I yelled to let them know that I’d be hanging with them until this all settled down. We cut over to 9th Avenue because walking on 8th was like wading knee deep in a muddy swamp and we still had to get down to 19th Street.
Ashlin had been my savior once before during the blizzard in February 2003. Back then I made the dubious decision to meet friends for dinner and drinks on a Sunday evening as the flurries began. By the end of the night, we were ankle deep in snow from a storm that was only half over. It would be 2 more days before I would get home. We now joked that the next time we hang out will have to be during hurricane season.
Once downtown, Alexa continued on home. Ashlin, myself and her roommates, Katie and Annie decided to go hit a local bar. After all, what else was there to do but drink a little wine? The rest of the daylight time was spent tracking down ‘C’ size batteries, fresh fruit, water and some beer. We sat out on the street and drank. We met a couple of other friends, including coworker named Robb. The night was beginning to feel more like a block party than a national disaster. Through the anxiety flowed a strange comfort, but those horrid memories of 1977 still burned bright and we felt it was best to go inside after dark.
In a room of candles we sat around a radio and tried to make sense of what had happened. It became frustratingly clear that all we were getting was political finger pointing and double talk. The press conferences from Mayor Bloomberg, Governor Pataki and Senator Clinton felt like nothing more than campaign speeches. Then came Bush with his old ‘getting back to normal’ rhetoric. We wanted answers but settled instead for Paul Simon’s ‘Graceland’, some pleasant conversation and retiring early for the night.
The girls set up camp in one of the bedrooms and I took my place on the comfy sofa. The night on 19th Street seemed to go by without incident aside from one poor soul who yelled that he was robbed at gunpoint. For the most part I was kept awake by my own sweat dripping on my face and the continued block party outside.
At one point, someone in the building mistakenly thought the alarm on the door to the roof would not work during a blackout. Much to their surprise, and the rest of us, it ran on batteries. Now this electronic banshee screamed for what seemed to be an eternity. That is until someone else in the building muffled it with a swift blow. And so it was back to trying to sleep.
Then came a roar from the crowded streets when a section of lights came on in midtown. I leaped up and was disappointed to see that our neighborhood was still dark. At this point I moved to a wooden chair beside the kitchen window to catch some of the cool breeze.
Friday morning found us still with no power. I would later find out that they got their power back at around 10:00 PM that night. The Port Authority Building was still closed and the ferry wait was still massive. However, the PATH trains to Hoboken had somehow regained power and were running. I took a quick shower, packed up my stuff, thanked my lovely hostesses and walked to the 14th and 6th Ave. station.
My friend Lisa offered to pick me up in Hoboken. While I waited I got a bagel and some iced tea. I was observing the faces around me. Zombies. Everyone looked as though they had been up all night, like me. Hot, tired zombies. The streets were remarkably quiet too. Not for lack of people, but for lack of energy I suppose. The whole metro area seemed to have had the wind knocked out of them.
Later that same day, Lisa and I decided to leave the area for a little while. We drove to Gettysburg, PA for the weekend to search for Civil War ghosts. We needed to get away from all of the chaos turning our attention toward history and relaxation.
My near useless legs would suffer from the the pain of knotted muscles and aching bones until well into Sunday night. Thankfully, 2003 was not a repeat of 1977 and NY proved itself to be a civilized and responsible city. Now can we please just not have this happen again?
It is time to seriously rethink our power solutions in this country. We have the ability to utilize safe nuclear energy. Unfortunately, the systems that run those facilities are tied into the electrical grid. So they’re not even a reliable back-up.
We can run clean, efficient solar that would have given us, at the very least, light. But the powers that control our power will not allow us to have such an affordable, endless source of energy. How many more of these blackouts, that are getting worse with each occurrence, do we need to have? Hopefully none.
Oh, and just for the record, many people (including me) are not convinced that this was simply an act of God. Sabotage of such an antiquated and fragile system is not only possible, it is highly probable.
Below is a satellite view of the US that night. Pretty spooky!
