Lights out guerilla radio
At about 4:15, when the lights went out, I was calmly sitting at my desk. The generator took over but couldn't support the whole system so the lights were flickering. Co-worker Mark thought they were about to burst into flames or something horrible. I was the only one with a working light and was quite calm, at least until boss Dan said it was a city-wide blackout plus Canada, Detroit, etc. I knew getting home would be a problem, so at 5:00 I was ready to get out of there. Unfortunately, I work for a company that cares more about the business than its employees, so I ended up working overtime until 7:00 to get money out in time for the fed extension. We had to go up to the fourth floor, where they had electricity, so we had to go against the flow of people streaming down from the upper floors. Our floor's deputy fire marshal was holding open the doors to the emergency exits; he had to go home to Westchester, but had to stay to get everyone out.
Outside, a Downtown Alliance guy said I could take the ferry at Pier 11 to get to Bayridge, but I decided to stay with the group walking over the Brooklyn Bridge. That was a good decision because a lot of the people who tried to get on the ferries had to go back and walk over the bridge anyway. Four of us walked down Broadway, and split up with the people from Queens, who decided to walk back to a stop where they could get a bus to midtown. One of my co-workers, Sandy, had a heart condition, so we had to walk at a leisurely pace and stop every couple of minutes.
Earlier that day, we had gone to a class in another building (which I had a hard time looking for, so I had existing blisters from walking all over Lower Manhattan looking for the damn building). It was ironic that we had taken a cab back to the office that morning as Sandy couldn't walk far because of her heart condition, and now she was going to have to walk the mile-long bridge. I normally walk quite fast and it would have taken me about thirty minutes, but I didn't want to split up with my co-workers as I didn't know my way around downtown Brooklyn.
On the bridge, some people were walking fast. A few slow. Some people had bikes and inline skates. The tourists, who had camers with them, had a ball taking pictures. I saw a camera crew or two, and a news chopper. Some people were sitting on the benches, like it was any other hot day in New York. Pier 17, however, was virtually empty. A couple of people were walking on the car part of the bridge. Finally, a van pulled over and picked them up. Mostly, people were calm and just doing what they had to do. Pictures of the blackout here, here and here.
Finally, at about 8:30, we got to the other side, where borough president Marty Markowitz was on a megaphone shouting, "Welcome to Brooklyn! Welcome home! We've been waiting for you since 4:30! Welcome back to the big time!" By that time, it was already dark. Usually, I carry around a flashlight. Of course, that particular day was just one of those days that I decided not to bring it. Walking around in the dark in downtown Brooklyn is not pretty. Plus, that day I had also decided to wear heels and my blisters had tripled in size and number. I almost took off my shoes (I saw two pairs of shoes and a shirt left behind on the bridge. Some people apparently just walked out of their shoes and shed their clothes.), but it was getting dark and I didn't want to risk stepping on broken glass.
My co-workers, who knew I didn't know the area, walked with me until we got to a working payphone. I called my cousin-in-law for directions on which bus I could take. First, we found a bus stop for Sandy. We stood around for a couple of minutes before somebody said the bus didn't have gas. We kept walking until we found a common bus stop. It was getting hard to see the signs. Policemen and a couple of good citizens lit flares, placed them on the road and directed traffic. My co-workers' bus arrived first and I told them to go ahead, because my bus was sure to come in a few minutes.
However, one of them decided to stay behind and wait with me. I reassured her I was going to be fine, but she firmly said, "I am not going to leave you alone in an unfamiliar place." My bus arrived in a few minutes, and I was able to get a good seat and some AC, finally. I had taken the bus going opposite of the direction I actually wanted to go because I figured it would be less crowded and I'd at least be able to get a seat, and as the bus circled back, I saw my co-worker leaning against a post nonchalantly. The sight of her alone and in the dark waiting for a bus at 10 pm got me worried more than the fact that my sister was stuck in an airport somewhere in Chicago. She at least was in a safe, well-lit place, and the last time I had talked to her was watching the news, which showed people walking barefoot over the bridge.
The bus crawled along 3rd Avenue, and the driver called out the stops once in a while, for the benefit of the passengers who couldn't see the signs. The Gowanus Expressway looked like a forest, the cars parked underneath thick concrete branches. I wasn't familiar with the bus route but the person sitting beside me was getting off at the same stop. A lady got on the bus with two women she had picked up on her way down from midtown. One of them was a tourist from Missouri, who was in New York for the first time. Other passengers teamed up to get to a common destination.
I had to cross two avenues to get to my block. On one avenue, a few young volunteers had flares and were directing vehicles and pedestrians. The other was dark and not very busy, so the occasional car zoomed past at quite a fast pace. I held out my phone, hoping the LCD would be visible in the dark, and looked very carefully both ways. I thought, "I haven't gone this far just to get hit by a car."
When I finally got home at 11 pm, some of the neighboors were out on their stoops with candles and lanterns. I opened the door to my apartment and found the flashlight where I had left it that morning. I kicked off my heels, took off my cardigan (I had completely forgotten about my cardigan and still had it on), grabbed my office phone list and some quarters and went out to look for a phone booth. I made a mental note to get one of those old phones that didn't require electricity. At the corner, I started walking towards the right, and almost fell into a ditch. Then I remembered the avenue was being repaired. I walked towards the opposite direction, trying to remember where I had seen a phone booth. I passed by a pub and a guy shouted, "Happy power outage!" and held out his beer. I had, however, spotted a phone and had too much on my mind.
First, I called my co-worker's house (she wasn't home yet) and then my cousin-in-law. He was waiting for my cousin who at last contact was somewhere in Queens. My parents had called from the Philippines, wondering if I had managed to get home. Finally, I called my sister's cellphone, got her voice mail, and figured she had probably caught a plane.
I went back home, didn't feel like dinner, collected candles and flashlights and batteries, set them on the coffee table and prepared to sleep on the living room couch. At about 1 am, my sister got home. Her 5 pm flight was pushed back a couple of times until she was finally able to get on a plane to La Guardia. The airport was dark and empty, but she had no trouble catching a cab and getting home.
The next morning, at about 5:30 am, I got a call from my boss, who had been up all night calling everyone and making sure we all got home safe. She started saying I should get in however I can, and that the company would reimburse expenses. I mildly interjected and said I had the day off. I had scheduled it weeks before, because I had planned a camping trip. I wasn't sure it was going to push through, but I sure wasn't going to work either way.
My cousin Josh, who was driving us, arrived from New Jersey and we were on our merry way at 11. We had to make a couple of stops and convoy with three other vans, so we got to Lake George at about 6 pm. My sister and I had no trouble putting up our tent, which we had tried, and failed, to put up in her room a week ago. Josh had to head back to New Jersey and had to be fed, so people started putting out food, but the people with the paper plates and utensils hadn't arrived yet so we asked around until we found some.
Camp was okay. Well, actually, it was too long a trip to make for too short a time. We had planned to go parasailing but weren't able to, because of a misunderstanding in the schedule. At least we got to go kayaking, which I loved. I remember we did a lot of eating. And I haven't gone camping in a long time, so it was okay. I wish we could have done more stuff, though. We got back yesterday at 7 pm, after seven hours. Rain followed us all the way to Brooklyn. And it wasn't just short drizzles. It was pouring. We made a wrong turn somewhere on I-87, and the GPS led us out of the expressway and back again, so we had to pay toll twice. Josh had been driving eleven hours, and had to drive about three hours more.
Today, I called in sick. But tomorrow, it's back to reality.
{Home, Sean Lennon}
At about 4:15, when the lights went out, I was calmly sitting at my desk. The generator took over but couldn't support the whole system so the lights were flickering. Co-worker Mark thought they were about to burst into flames or something horrible. I was the only one with a working light and was quite calm, at least until boss Dan said it was a city-wide blackout plus Canada, Detroit, etc. I knew getting home would be a problem, so at 5:00 I was ready to get out of there. Unfortunately, I work for a company that cares more about the business than its employees, so I ended up working overtime until 7:00 to get money out in time for the fed extension. We had to go up to the fourth floor, where they had electricity, so we had to go against the flow of people streaming down from the upper floors. Our floor's deputy fire marshal was holding open the doors to the emergency exits; he had to go home to Westchester, but had to stay to get everyone out.
Outside, a Downtown Alliance guy said I could take the ferry at Pier 11 to get to Bayridge, but I decided to stay with the group walking over the Brooklyn Bridge. That was a good decision because a lot of the people who tried to get on the ferries had to go back and walk over the bridge anyway. Four of us walked down Broadway, and split up with the people from Queens, who decided to walk back to a stop where they could get a bus to midtown. One of my co-workers, Sandy, had a heart condition, so we had to walk at a leisurely pace and stop every couple of minutes.
Earlier that day, we had gone to a class in another building (which I had a hard time looking for, so I had existing blisters from walking all over Lower Manhattan looking for the damn building). It was ironic that we had taken a cab back to the office that morning as Sandy couldn't walk far because of her heart condition, and now she was going to have to walk the mile-long bridge. I normally walk quite fast and it would have taken me about thirty minutes, but I didn't want to split up with my co-workers as I didn't know my way around downtown Brooklyn.
On the bridge, some people were walking fast. A few slow. Some people had bikes and inline skates. The tourists, who had camers with them, had a ball taking pictures. I saw a camera crew or two, and a news chopper. Some people were sitting on the benches, like it was any other hot day in New York. Pier 17, however, was virtually empty. A couple of people were walking on the car part of the bridge. Finally, a van pulled over and picked them up. Mostly, people were calm and just doing what they had to do. Pictures of the blackout here, here and here.
Finally, at about 8:30, we got to the other side, where borough president Marty Markowitz was on a megaphone shouting, "Welcome to Brooklyn! Welcome home! We've been waiting for you since 4:30! Welcome back to the big time!" By that time, it was already dark. Usually, I carry around a flashlight. Of course, that particular day was just one of those days that I decided not to bring it. Walking around in the dark in downtown Brooklyn is not pretty. Plus, that day I had also decided to wear heels and my blisters had tripled in size and number. I almost took off my shoes (I saw two pairs of shoes and a shirt left behind on the bridge. Some people apparently just walked out of their shoes and shed their clothes.), but it was getting dark and I didn't want to risk stepping on broken glass.
My co-workers, who knew I didn't know the area, walked with me until we got to a working payphone. I called my cousin-in-law for directions on which bus I could take. First, we found a bus stop for Sandy. We stood around for a couple of minutes before somebody said the bus didn't have gas. We kept walking until we found a common bus stop. It was getting hard to see the signs. Policemen and a couple of good citizens lit flares, placed them on the road and directed traffic. My co-workers' bus arrived first and I told them to go ahead, because my bus was sure to come in a few minutes.
However, one of them decided to stay behind and wait with me. I reassured her I was going to be fine, but she firmly said, "I am not going to leave you alone in an unfamiliar place." My bus arrived in a few minutes, and I was able to get a good seat and some AC, finally. I had taken the bus going opposite of the direction I actually wanted to go because I figured it would be less crowded and I'd at least be able to get a seat, and as the bus circled back, I saw my co-worker leaning against a post nonchalantly. The sight of her alone and in the dark waiting for a bus at 10 pm got me worried more than the fact that my sister was stuck in an airport somewhere in Chicago. She at least was in a safe, well-lit place, and the last time I had talked to her was watching the news, which showed people walking barefoot over the bridge.
The bus crawled along 3rd Avenue, and the driver called out the stops once in a while, for the benefit of the passengers who couldn't see the signs. The Gowanus Expressway looked like a forest, the cars parked underneath thick concrete branches. I wasn't familiar with the bus route but the person sitting beside me was getting off at the same stop. A lady got on the bus with two women she had picked up on her way down from midtown. One of them was a tourist from Missouri, who was in New York for the first time. Other passengers teamed up to get to a common destination.
I had to cross two avenues to get to my block. On one avenue, a few young volunteers had flares and were directing vehicles and pedestrians. The other was dark and not very busy, so the occasional car zoomed past at quite a fast pace. I held out my phone, hoping the LCD would be visible in the dark, and looked very carefully both ways. I thought, "I haven't gone this far just to get hit by a car."
When I finally got home at 11 pm, some of the neighboors were out on their stoops with candles and lanterns. I opened the door to my apartment and found the flashlight where I had left it that morning. I kicked off my heels, took off my cardigan (I had completely forgotten about my cardigan and still had it on), grabbed my office phone list and some quarters and went out to look for a phone booth. I made a mental note to get one of those old phones that didn't require electricity. At the corner, I started walking towards the right, and almost fell into a ditch. Then I remembered the avenue was being repaired. I walked towards the opposite direction, trying to remember where I had seen a phone booth. I passed by a pub and a guy shouted, "Happy power outage!" and held out his beer. I had, however, spotted a phone and had too much on my mind.
First, I called my co-worker's house (she wasn't home yet) and then my cousin-in-law. He was waiting for my cousin who at last contact was somewhere in Queens. My parents had called from the Philippines, wondering if I had managed to get home. Finally, I called my sister's cellphone, got her voice mail, and figured she had probably caught a plane.
I went back home, didn't feel like dinner, collected candles and flashlights and batteries, set them on the coffee table and prepared to sleep on the living room couch. At about 1 am, my sister got home. Her 5 pm flight was pushed back a couple of times until she was finally able to get on a plane to La Guardia. The airport was dark and empty, but she had no trouble catching a cab and getting home.
The next morning, at about 5:30 am, I got a call from my boss, who had been up all night calling everyone and making sure we all got home safe. She started saying I should get in however I can, and that the company would reimburse expenses. I mildly interjected and said I had the day off. I had scheduled it weeks before, because I had planned a camping trip. I wasn't sure it was going to push through, but I sure wasn't going to work either way.
My cousin Josh, who was driving us, arrived from New Jersey and we were on our merry way at 11. We had to make a couple of stops and convoy with three other vans, so we got to Lake George at about 6 pm. My sister and I had no trouble putting up our tent, which we had tried, and failed, to put up in her room a week ago. Josh had to head back to New Jersey and had to be fed, so people started putting out food, but the people with the paper plates and utensils hadn't arrived yet so we asked around until we found some.
Camp was okay. Well, actually, it was too long a trip to make for too short a time. We had planned to go parasailing but weren't able to, because of a misunderstanding in the schedule. At least we got to go kayaking, which I loved. I remember we did a lot of eating. And I haven't gone camping in a long time, so it was okay. I wish we could have done more stuff, though. We got back yesterday at 7 pm, after seven hours. Rain followed us all the way to Brooklyn. And it wasn't just short drizzles. It was pouring. We made a wrong turn somewhere on I-87, and the GPS led us out of the expressway and back again, so we had to pay toll twice. Josh had been driving eleven hours, and had to drive about three hours more.
Today, I called in sick. But tomorrow, it's back to reality.
{Home, Sean Lennon}
