h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

When the blackout began, I was working in Manhattan, affectionately called the crown of New York City. The outage left millions of commuters and tourists stranded on the island burough. The subway system abruptly halted and many skyscraper elevators froze, forcing protracted walks up the subway lines or down staircases to reach the street. Drivers, meanwhile, found themselves stuck on clogged one-way roads with all bridges in and out of the island closed.

I was lucky to be on the ground floor of my law firm's building, instead of the 49th where I would normally have been. Our security personnel soon used our backup generators and the emergency system to calm employees and relay the tentative cause of the outage. Once reassured that a terror attack had not taken place, the staff quietly followed predetermined exit routes before the backup generator failed.

I meanwhile waited in a sunny square beside the building with a book in hand, knowing that my assistance as part of the IT department would be required if power was restored. By the end of my shift, it was clear that the blackout would be protracted. A quick calculation warned me that without the subway, it would be dark before I could reach my home in Brooklyn. The street lights would be off, making the trek difficult despite the availability of the Brooklyn Bridge for pedestrians.

I thought to contact by live-in boyfriend at my apartment, but the phone networks were immediately clogged by concerned callers. Those with very real concerns kept trying via cell phone or pay phone until they got through. The rest of us deferred our worries for another time.

I decided to walk to the nearest place where I felt I would be welcomed, in this case the home of my boyfriend's parents. The walk from Worldwide Plaza to the East Village, a distance of about 60 city blocks, took me a couple of hours. Halfway along my route, I stopped at a favorite gaming establishment to reassure myself that my friends there were okay and had their own contingency plans. I was rewarded with pleasant company for the rest of my southward journey.

What impressed me the most was the residents' extreme cool-headedness in the event of the emergency. The general attitude was one of neat practicality along with an absolute refusal to become phased or distraught. If anything, it seemed there was less craziness in New York City on that day than any other I've seen. Maybe it was the trial by fire of September 11th that made this possible.

Rather than any opportunistic increase in theft, it seemed that crime stopped in Manhattan in time with the electricity. The police force was left to concentrate on directing traffic to prevent accidents. The hospitals were free to concentrate on those who collapsed after walking down dozens of flights and those who developed heat strokes from the extreme heat. Despite insane overcrowding on the streets, drivers sometimes miraculously made way for ambulances, and for the firetrucks rushing to put out fires started by candles lit in local residences.

Ice cream parlors, delis, and meat vendors sold their merchandise at reduced prices or gave it away for free. Locals fired up their barbecue grills on building roofs and offered to cook for their neighbors. Pizza parlors with gas ovens and street vendors made sure the street population was fed. Local one-stop shops remained open to fulfill basic needs for aspirin, sunblock, and bottled water. And some of the shops and businesses rendered useless by the blackout offered their floors to the public to sleep on as night came on. My law firm donated its floor and its cafeteria's food stores to those trapped in their vicinity.

My hosts were relieved to see me. We finished strawberry shortcake with whipped cream that would otherwise go bad while I heard stories about my boyfriend's childhood and the historic neighborhood I was spending the night in. After sunset, the locals fought any natural despondance about the lack of light by congregating in bars. They brought their candles and their battery operated boomboxes, drank warm beer with their friends, and tuned out the news in favor of music and celebration.

About the time that out mayor started recommending that we look upon the next day as a work-free snow day in beautiful weather, someone a few blocks over lit some spontaneous fireworks. I was able to sleep despite the raucous noise, but I understand the party went on all night.

My boyfriend, Peter, had planned on joining his parents that evening, was ironically stranded in our apartment in Brooklyn. In contrast to the eccentric East Village, the trendy brownstones in Park Slope experienced a quiet communion with the crickets. When he found himself without money or candles, he sat on the stoop outside until neighbors from two different apartments in our building gave him some company and soon donated what he needed. We still have their candles.

The next morning, I was able to call Peter from a pay phone and help his mother shop. I still wanted to get home, and was faced with the choice of either an even longer walk or a tentative attempt at using the possibly overcrowded bus system. Armed with the knowledge that my boyfriend was okay and waiting for me, I set out with determination.

I hopped the closest bus heading the right direction, and was soon astounded at the relative efficiency of the operation. Additional buses had been added to the routes connecting to the other boroughs. Stations were staffed with helpers containing maps and years of familiarity with the system. And the drivers were efficient in handling numerous requests for information while keeping to their timetables.

It took four buses to get me home, but the trip lasted only about an hour. I was never confused about where I was going next or why. When I finally walked the last two blocks to my apartment, the sun was shining, and I couldn't have cared less that I'd gotten sunburned on the way home.

It was about noon, and my boyfriend was asleep on the couch when I arrived. He'd had difficulty sleeping through the night, having worried that I would be stranded like so many other commuters to Manhattan. I woke him up, and we gave each other the biggest hug you can imagine.

Today is Monday. I've returned to work after a long weekend. While one floor in our building was briefly shut down to resolve lingering power isses, things are otherwise unchanged. The stores are open again. And the supermarkets are mobilizing to quickly restock themselves with the perishable items they'd had to clear off their shelves.

I think in the end, the only big difference for most New Yorkers will be that they're more sure of their gumption than ever. Many have formed a few new bonds from the crisis, I would guess. And there will be yet another big event to tell our incredulous grandchildren about.

Brilliant story, Fragilis I think the entry will really benefit from such a great, descriptive story from inside NYC

Fragilis:

FAntAstic Story!

I also work in Manhattan and live in Brooklyn. I must agree, it was nice to see New Yorkers come together on this one.....as we always do in times of crisis!

Thanks, guys.

Looking back on it, I did omit an important detail. If I could, I'd insert these as 8th and 9th paragraphs into my original post:

Watching everyone get fed was especially gratifying since so many were suddenly at a financial disadvantage. Most ATMs went down with the power. The few that stayed up briefly thanks to back-up generators were quickly emptied. A noticeable percentage of people found themselves with useless bank cards, credit cards, and checks - but no cash.

I saw numerous cases where friends, family, or even relative strangers passed on small amounts of money to those in need. And I saw one embarrassed person explain his situation to a pizza joint that was open. He was fed without question. I doubt his one slice was missed. what with the rush of cash flowing into the employees' aprons.

What a great story! Well told.
I live in Sweden, and one of my best childhood memories are from a blackout due to a snow storm. It was like an adventure, the whole family slept in the livingroom by the fireplace, we had to cook food on a campingstove. And outside the snow and wind were blowing. My dad was an electrician and he and his work mates where out there trying to get the power back. They used our home as a headquater for getting food, rest and warmth. I´ll never forget that feeling, it was like being in another reality.
It sounds really special when you tell about how people brought candles out to meet for a beer.
And it makes me happy to hear the stories about generousity and solidarity

I live in Upstate New York, with lots of relatives in Queens. My hypochondriac grandparents had no water on the 20th floor, and naturally thought they were going to die and no one would know because the telephone was out and their naighbors would be alerted only by the stench...

I fortunately was not affected at all by the outages because I spent the day in a park outside. At four we went to a bakery nearby and were informed of the blackout. The huge Italian matrons were beside themselves and we were pretty worried at the magnitude. Surprisingly when we got home, all power had been restored, and we spent the rest of the time perfectly normally. It was only the next day WHEN WE DIDN'T GET THE NEW YORK TIMES we realized how huge it really was.

I'm glad you enjoyed the story.

I'm not sure New Yorkers could have pulled it off with the same aplomb a generation ago. Americans tend to be a bit selfish, and New York especially has a reputation as a place where you tend to sink or swim.

One thing that still strikes me as funny is that there were probably Wall Street bankers stuck in traffic jams and too embarrassed to admit they had no cash, while homeless beggers with a few dollars in their cup got through the event just fine. It was indeed another reality.

We must have posted at about the same time, Jessabon. I didn't see your post until I looked back at the thread this morning. You're really the other side of the New York City story, you know. While the blackout was huge and harshly effected most commuters, a lot of natives were home at the time and didn't experience much heartache over the situation.

Izzybelle, I keep thinking about your Sweden story. It really does sound like an adventure you had. Those must be great childhood memories.

I remember back in the '70s, we had a similar situation to Izzybelle's, due to a blizzard. We didn't have electricity for almost 2 weeks. We didn't have heat, but our hot water heater was gas, so it was *heaven* to hop into a hot shower, but *terrible* coming out! Nothing like steam rising from your body!

We had a gas oven, and my mother turned it on and left it open occasionally just to warm the kitchen. We've since learned that's a dangerous thing to do, but it kept us all huddled into one room, and it was nice!

We'd walk a couple of miles through the snow to see if there was any food available at the grocery store. Sometimes a truck would get through, sometimes not. It took almost a week before they plowed our road so people could get out.

But I do remember having the special time of bonding with my family ... even if my nose was cold!

There´s nothing like great snowstorm
I am happy to learn from Fragilis story that everything was nice and calm in a big city like New York on an occasion like the black out. With September 11 not very far away, the fear of a terrorist attac could easyly have cause nasty panic.
But sometimes a little adventure, like a blackout or a blizzard, might be what we need to get a different perspective on our lives and people around us.
Being more or less "snowed in" for two weeks without electricity, sounds really tough Shea