Blogging Irene

So they tell me Hurricane Irene will hit my city with some ferocity this weekend. I seriously contemplated getting out of here, but I was away in December when Blizzard-pocalypse hit, and it was so hard being stranded and not knowing when I could get home. I decided that I preferred to be here, even if that meant a little bit of scariness. Whether that was a good decision remains to be seen. But then I thought, well, am I a writer, or am I a writer? For better or worse, that is what I am. So if Irene is going to threaten my life, limb, and property, then I am going to use her for material. It's only fair. Forthwith, my adventures with hurricane survival.

Friday, August 26

4:00 p.m. It is beautiful and sunny out, but very very muggy. That and the ridiculously long lines at the grocery store are the only indications that something windy this way comes. I make the mistake of stopping at the store, not because I really need anything, but just because it seems like a good idea to have as much food in the house as I can. Also, I think I'd like to make cookies. Well, for someone who hates lines and crowds like I do, I think the cookies probably could have waited. Once I muscle my way out of the frantic mob, I head home, where I hope things will be a little calmer. Alas, they are not, for there is my roommate Karen, who refuses to turn off the news and is officially freaking out. We live a stone's throw from the East River, and are right on the edge of a Zone A neighborhood. The city has already called for mandatory evacuation of Zone A. Karen, who will be house-sitting in a high rise safely tucked in Zone D uptown, is afraid I am going to die if I stay here. I am not so afraid, but to be honest her panic is not helping.

7:38 p.m. My fellowship group, which meets on Fridays, can talk of nothing but Irene. We are all staying in town, but taking varying degrees of precautions. I am the only one foolish enough to stubbornly remain in Zone B. My friend LeeAnne, at whose apartment we are meeting, lives only a few blocks away from me, but is considered safe because the river curves out as it approaches her street and she's further inland. She wants me to come keep her company this weekend, and even says I can bring my cat Stargirl (!). I seriously consider. I will continue to consider. Being in a large group of people who are all worried about the same natural disaster turns out not to be a great idea. The architect in the group assures me that if my windows are made of one of two kinds of glass, they will not shatter if they break. "So why are you still telling me what to do if my windows break?" "They might not be made of one of those two kinds." Oh.

10:43 p.m. I stop at the sketchy McDonald's on 14th Street, even though it is the grossest hangout on the planet on Friday nights. Sure enough, kid without a shirt ordering in front of me. But I suddenly feel as though I'm really going to be craving a Ranch BLT during the worst of the storm, and I don't want to be found without it. I buy it and store it in the fridge for my future time of need.


Saturday, August 27


7:53 a.m. I wake up to overcast skies. I can always tell storms are in the offing when the top of the Empire State Building disappears into the clouds, and it's already gone. However, no rain is falling and it is almost eerily calm. It is 75 degrees with 91% humidity. There is currently only a 30% chance of rain, but the worst of the storm isn't supposed to come till overnight. I obediently follow the directions given me by my property managers: close and lock all the windows, draw the shades. It's kind of freakishly quiet in my apartment now, because we keep the kitchen and bathroom windows open pretty much year-round. Not being able to hear the traffic on FDR Drive makes me feel kind of alone. Karen has already left to go house-sit, which doesn't help. Right now, though, it may as well be any other Saturday. I watch my baseball highlights and get ready to go to the gym. Stargirl starts whining that she's hungry a good two hours before she's due to be fed. Well, at least I have that to look forward to all weekend.

8:50 a.m. I don't really know many of my neighbors, and feel that I would like to verify that I am not the only idiot staying in this building. In the laundry room I find a woman and her dog, and I nonchalantly say, "Staying around this weekend?" She gives me a look that says no one has ever spoken to her in this room before and says "Yes." Her tone implies the answer to the question is obvious. This is not an uncommon New York neighbor experience, so I am undeterred. At any rate, I have accomplished my goal and learned that I will not be the only person here when the wind starts to blow. The gym is about as full as it normally is on a Saturday morning, so that makes me feel better too.

10:11 a.m. I think I should keep the news on so that I'm aware of things that are happening, but they really really aren't helping with the whole trying not to be scared thing. They repeat over and over and over and OVER that all subways, buses, and commuter trains shut down at noon, essentially trapping those of us foolish enough not to take advantage. Bus fare is free, and Mayor Michael Bloomberg seems to have given roughly nineteen different press conferences yelling at city-dwellers who don't leave. I dislike this mayor in more ways than one, and I am convinced that all his yelling is at least partially an overcompensation for the yelling he failed to do when Blizzard-pocalypse hit back in December. Since it's not my fault that happened, I don't really want to participate in his look-like-a-better-mayor campaign. Bottom line: news is probably causing more problems than it is solving.

However, they have said a couple of things I'm thinking about. One is that I should have a "go bag" ready in case I have to, you know, go. I've been holding off doing that because unless there are literally waves hitting my 11th-floor window I'm not leaving without Stargirl. But now they're saying pets will be allowed at city shelters, and as much as I don't want to put her or myself through that, it's probably a good idea to have our stuff ready. I'm supposed to produce a copy of her vaccination records, which is interesting because she's a rescue cat and her records aren't complete. I'm not really sure what to do about that.

Another thing they keep talking about: something called a "battery-powered radio." What is that? I am pretty sure I owned one when I was about 7, but then they invented ipods and now I wouldn't know where to get a radio if my life depended on it. Which perhaps it does.

11:12 a.m. Rain now falling. I run into a few more people on my way to and from the laundry room, including a guy that I actually do know, and so I feel better about staying. At least if we go down, we're all going down together.

12:00 p.m. Nothing new to report except that public transportation is officially no longer an option. This means 2 things: 1) for better or for worse, I'm weathering this storm in Manhattan. 2) They won't evacuate my zone now. It would be bogus to do so since they've cut off all means I might use to leave. I don't have any hard facts backing this up, but it makes sense. And I hope it's true.

1:05 p.m. The first wave of rain passes and we have about a half an hour of lighter cloud cover before the rain starts again. Humidity is up to 93% and I am feeling it. I decide that it's best to sequester Stargirl and myself in the living room, so I close all the bedroom doors and thus cut off any access to air conditioning. One of the annoying things about living in New York is how expensive every extra square foot is. It's not uncommon to put up false walls to convert a living room into a bedroom so the rent can be further divided. My apartment has such a wall, and sometimes it's a drag because of the fact that our much narrower living room gets so little light. But at the moment, I am SO thankful for this wall. If any windows should happen to break, this is what will protect me from flying glass (assuming I have the kind of glass that shatters. I prefer not to find that out the hard way).

Despite the mugginess, I've done what I can to make this room feel homey. Basically every candle I can find   is out, which makes it look like I'm planning some sort of seance. I also have my flashlight handy along with dozens of extra batteries. Con Edison, the power company here, is saying that they may shut off the power in all of lower Manhattan in advance of the worst of the storm simply to prevent seawater from interacting with live wires. Apparently this can be very destructive. This is something else I prefer not to find out the hard way, so go on and shut that baby off Con Ed! I have my laptop and phone plugged in so I won't use the batteries a second longer than I need to. And if the TV stops working, yes, I will feel cut off, but I can read a book by flashlight for hours. No electricity needed.

I also decide to take the possibility of evacuation a LITTLE more seriously. I have a backpack with batteries, my wallet, extra clothes, water, and some snacks, along with Stargirl's food and her records, such as they are. I would just about sell my soul not to be evacuated though. What a nightmare it would be to drag my cat in her carrier and all the other stuff we need to Baruch College, which is the nearest evacuation site. It's only about a 10-minute walk, but who knows what it will be like in 70-mph winds?

Irene, you can't scare me. Although I think you are going to do your best to try.

1:27 p.m. I receive an email telling me that Con Ed is at work already, and that they've shut off steam power in my neighborhood. So no hot water. Good thing I already took a shower today. Hopefully I won't have to wait till Monday for the next one. And hopefully they won't turn off the gas, so if I need to boil water to drink I can. Wow, I'm starting to feel like a wilderness adventurer! I kind of love that. I don't get many opportunities to brave the wilderness here in the concrete jungle.

2:54 p.m. I begin to hear a repetitive banging sound like someone is hammering something to a wall. This mildly concerns me because, should I be boarding up my windows? The property manager said not to, but surely people aren't using today to catch up on their picture hanging. The banging goes on sporadically for about a half an hour. Maybe it was someone nailing a rope ladder to the window frame. After all, if the news is to be believed, power outages could shut down elevators all over the city AND THEN HOW WILL WE GET DOWN??

4:52 p.m. LeeAnne and I decide that we cannot live on canned food alone, and that we want to try to find an open restaurant for one last meal before Irene locks us inside. We go to Artichoke, which is one of the best pizza places in New York (seriously - you must go there), and we both get multiple pieces so we can take leftovers home and heat them up when we need a takeout fix later. We return to her apartment to eat a piece each, and to my delight she has Diet Dr. Pepper. All around a very successful meal. Outside, it is raining but very lightly. The wind is blowing at perhaps 10 mph. If I didn't know a hurricane was coming, I wouldn't be concerned about this weather at all, so I guess it's a good thing that I do know a hurricane is coming. There is a surprising number of people out and about, and many businesses are still open. Still, it's certainly not the bustling Saturday night East Village I'm used to. On my way home, I run into a couple of guys who ask where I got the pizza. "Artichoke," I tell them, "14th between 1st and 2nd. Actually, there are quite a few places open, so you shouldn't have any trouble finding food." "Beautiful," one of them says with a smile. Don't tell me New Yorkers aren't helpful. We're always there for each other in a disaster.

7:37 p.m. It's getting dark outside, so it's harder to tell how much the wind is blowing. The weather channel says 13 mph, which is still really mild. I think I should probably not look out the windows anymore, because I won't be able to see anything and they're supposed to start kicking up soon. The worst of it is now predicted to hit between 8 a.m. and noon tomorrow, which is really unfortunate because that's when I'm going to want to look out the window the most. Sometimes it's hard being a grown-up and having self-control.

Guy on the news tells a lady in Queens that there is "a slight chance" that this storm could tear the roof of her building off. Awesome.

8:07 p.m. The news informs me that there is now a tornado watch on top of the hurricane. Well now what do I do? I'm well-versed in tornado protocol; you go to the lowest floor you can get to and you protect your neck. I'm on the 11th floor, and going downstairs doesn't really seem like the best idea. I really hope that tornado watch goes away. I can handle hurricane-force winds but funnel clouds are terrifying. And I'm not super stoked about climbing into a closet for the rest of the night. Neither is Stargirl.

10:20 p.m. LeeAnne decides that neither of us should probably spend tonight alone and I fully concur with this assessment. She is further away from the evacuation zone as I said previously, but she has no pets, so it's easier for her to come to me. Plus, her living room has windows and mine does not. So she packs her things and is lucky enough to find a cab on the corner. I admit I feel better now that she's here. The wind is topping out around 20 mph now and I can easily hear the rain falling. When it gets worse, I think I'll be very glad to have some company. I'm getting VERY tired of the news and especially Mike Bloomberg's press conferences. He just won't stop yelling.


Sunday, August 28

8:23 a.m. I wake up and realize that it's morning and I'm still alive. I didn't sleep like a rock but that was more because of my couch, which isn't long enough for a human body. I can hear the wind, but it isn't nearly as loud as I thought it would be. According to the weather channel it is blowing around 25 mph and gusting to 50-60 mph. I peek out the window and see a slightly more intense rainstorm than I've seen before. It really isn't all that apocalyptic. I can't tell from here how high the river has risen, but it's not pouring into the streets yet. We still have power and water. The news is saying that the flooding in Manhattan isn't as bad as they thought it would be - surprise surprise. We're right about in the center of it right now, and it's starting to pass. All I want to know is when the flooding danger is over so I can go outside. Also, I'd like my hot water back. I know how lucky I am that that's all I lost.

9:25 a.m. Hurricane Irene has been downgraded to Tropical Storm Irene. There are cars on the highway and people on the sidewalks (New Yorkers rarely listen when someone tells them to stay where they are). The wind is dying down and so is the rain. It's official: I survived this hurricane!!

11:51 a.m. LeeAnne feels safe enough to leave and I decide to venture outside with her and scope out the situation. There are quite a few fallen branches on the ground and some standing water on the road, though not enough that cars can't pass. The rain has stopped, but it's still very cloudy and windy. I'm most surprised by how much debris is on the walkway by the East River. It's clear that the river was pretty high last night and that the wind blew a lot of water over the guardrail. Still, I feel that my neighborhood has mostly escaped unscathed.

I guess I'd probably better eat that 36-hour-old McDonald's sandwich that's still in my fridge ... or not. That was probably an unnecessary preparation. And my greatest regret about this storm is that I was not able to track down my copy of The Baby-sitters Club Super Special #10 Sea City Here We Come and read it by candlelight.