Blackout 2003

I can't believe it's the tenth anniversary of the Blackout.

Ten years ago today, I had been in my office near Union Square when the power went out.  So I walked down the two flights, having been sent home by the director.  I thought it was just a local outage and was surprised to see that the subway was closed and the shops' lights were out.  I pulled out my cellphone and dialed Mama, the one time we connected--her power was out, too.  So we agreed on our previously-arranged emergency plan (this wasn't long after September 11, after all):  meet at Bryant Park and then we'd go to the Algonquin.

I made the long trek from downtown to 42nd Street on what was a very hot day.  People were pouring out of their offices; traffic was at a complete standstill.  Rumors flew.  Some enterprising shops had closed up but were selling bottled water--$4 a bottle!--on the streets.  I think I got one.  Soon one of those loud radio vans snaked by on 6th, blaring that the power outage was all over the Northeast and not due to any clear terrorist attack.

When I finally made it to Bryant Park, I was not the only one.  One oversight in our plan--we hadn't said where in the park to meet, because, usually, there aren't so many people there.  But there were thousands.  I circled.  I learned later that Mama circled.  I even stood in line for a pay phone and tried to call her twice, but by then the circuits were completely shut down.

I decided to head over to the Algonquin and immediately went to the front desk, where I stood in line behind a very grumpy woman who didn't get a room.  When I politely inquired, however, they took my  name and credit card number and put me on the waiting list.  I then headed to the line for the basement bathroom--they'd give you the flashlight one at a time to go.  When I got back upstairs and stood outside, Mama crossed the street.  I was so happy that our plan had worked!

Eventually, we went back to the desk and got our room key.  I think it was 6th floor.  High, but not like the Marriott or other area hotels that we heard later had to evacuate all guests for fire safety in such high rises.  We were so happy to have a space with beds and a bathroom, even if there was no air conditioning, lights, or hot water.

We ventured out later to look for some food and to see what was going on.  It was like a giant party--people walking down the streets, more people than you ever see milling about, but very oddly unlit as dusk settled.  A line for the brick oven pizza place snaked around the corner (and with people buying 10 at a time, we knew we'd never get pizza.)  We found a corner store that was letting people in a few at a time to shop by flashlight, as long as you had cash (which we did, another part of our emergency plan.)  I think we dined on Doritos and candy bars and who knows what else that night.  And were happy to have it.

If memory serves, we slept well enough, after cold showers, and woke to lights on the next morning. Outside, the city looked like Mardi Gras had hit--people asleep on the sidewalks, garbage everywhere, and the smell of urine pervasive (the one public bathroom, in Bryant Park, had closed almost immediately out of safety concerns--I had tried there before the Algonquin.) It took awhile for the trains to start running out of GCT and we didn't get home until later afternoon.  Our house alarm had sounded when the power went out--we're told it was only out for an hour or so.  But it was too long for our cat, Morgan, who didn't understand the noise or why we didn't come home to feed him--he'd thrown up twice overnight.

All in all, it was a fun adventure, once we knew it wasn't terrorism.  And to this day, we're grateful to the Algonquin for letting us in.