Waiting for Sandy.
A little more than a year ago, we were camped out in our old apartment in Washington Heights waiting for hurricane Irene, and tonight we’re hunkered down* in Brooklyn waiting for hurricane Sandy.
We’re admittedly more nervous this time around. Irene did a lot of serious damage upstate and in the northeastern states, but New York City got off relatively easy. I don’t know if we’ll be so lucky this time around—no one seems to really know. We decided to stay here rather than go up to our house for a few reasons (less chance of being stranded for days without power or being squashed by a tree, primarily), and there’s really no time for second guessing.
DUMBO is a waterfront neighborhood, and our apartment is about as close to the East River as you can be without actually being in it. The other side of our street is in the mandatory evacuation zone—a technicality, I guess, but one that’s giving me a sense of security just for being 5 feet to the north of the dividing line.
The subways have been shut down in anticipation of flooding, which feels very strange. I can count on one hand the number of times in my life that the NYC subways have been completely out of commission. They might not be back in service until Wednesday, which is impossible for me to imagine. This is not a city that can function without mass transit. Obviously I won’t be going into work tomorrow! The parks are closed, all construction has been halted, sandbags are in place, the stores have been raided for batteries and bread, and it’s very, very quiet outside.
I’m keeping busy answering emails, cleaning the apartment and baking peanut butter blondies. I feel like I really need to keep everything in order right now.
Before it started to get windy, I took the dogs on a really long walk. The pre-storm light was gray and beautiful, and I took a bunch of photos—I guess because I’m worried DUMBO might not look like this tomorrow. I spent a long time watching Jane’s Carousel go around and around inside its glass box, hoping that storm surges won’t rise above the platform it sits on.
Stay safe, everyone.
*That’s for you, K.