So I've been cleaning out the personal folder on my computer at work, and it turns out a lot of writing has died here. So why not ressurrect some of the stuff that's worth preserving? This is an email I sent to someone immediately following the East Coast Black Out in August 2003. Bad times at the time, but good times in hindsight! ...
Yes, the Monday after The Blackout. I bet you think you're going to open your email to find some pages-long message from me about my powerless city. But you think wrong!!! My weekend consisted of one mission and one mission alone: Getting my bridesmaid dress-clad ass to Indianapolis by 2:30p.m. Saturday afternoon (with the implicit second mission of getting my cute little skirt-wearing ass back to NYC Sunday night). The story of that mission is the real story of this weekend.
Still, I guess any message from any one of the 50 million of us who lost power this weekend needs to involve some mention of the big event. My personal story's not that great. I was at work and everything shut down. Something about the way it happened felt like more than just your average power outage, and as I'm sure you'd imagine, it was a little scary there for awhile. Nobody could get through to anybody on their cell phones, which meant this was pretty widespread. Then bits and pieces of (what turned out to be incorrect) information started coming in, and it got a little scary for awhile. One of the good things, however, about working for an organization that's got a lot of energy experts kicking around is that they could figure out pretty quickly what had happened and how long it was going to take to fix. About 20 minutes after the lights went out, we got a call from one of our big energy guys in San Francisco, and he said the magic words – "It almost certainly wasn't terrorism" – and from there I'd be lying if I told you the whole thing wasn't kind of exhilarating. Different, and a little challenge, you know, a bit of the unknown, too.
So I started off on what was probably about a 5 mile walk home which I guess kind of sucked, but at the same time, it was so much fun, and one of those once-in-a-lifetime and only-in-New-York kinds of experiences that are the reason I love this city so much. Millions of people –literally – on the streets, parties in all the bars, just the most festive atmosphere. I'm sure it was a bewildering nightmare for anyone who wasn't from here or who lived outside the city and had no idea how they were going to get home, but for those of us who had a place to go, this was something that was eventually going to go away, so we might as well enjoy it for the unique possibilities it brings.
At any rate, it took me about two and a half hours to get home. I found our flashlight and went to the corner store to grab something to eat (We had a box of cereal, some M&Ms, milk, and a bunch of condiments when the lights went out.) and that was basically it. It was unbelievably hot, so I procrastinated a bit about going to bed, but finally put my head down about 1:30a.m. (Pretty lame, eh?! I wish I could have told you I was drunk and dancing to the bands that were playing on the streets, and sleeping in the park with hundreds of strangers, but alas, I was home. I was a little nervous about how I was going to get to the wedding I had to get to, and aware that even under the best of circumstances, I had a *very* long weekend ahead of me, so I took the responsible route.)
Alrighty!!!
Friday morning began with me in my pajamas in the pitch dark on the pay phone outside the corner store at 4:35a.m. talking to U.S. Air about the status of my 8:26a.m. flight. The automated service told me my flight was on time, which seemed impossible, but at the same time, the news said the airports were functioning, and I thought perhaps because I was among the first couple of flights to get out, things wouldn't be too backed up. Back up to my apartment and into what turned out to be an ice cold shower. I guess if I'd thought about it, it might have occurred to me that the power outage would mean no hot water, but it hadn't, so that was an unpleasant surprise. There was no way I could convince myself to get under that freezing water, so I took what amounted to a sponge bath, wetting a towel and then dabbing at myself with it. Lovely. Then out of the shower, beginning the process of trying to pack in the dark. Which was actually going along quite well till the lights came back on. Something about the return to normalcy made me realize how disorganized and tired and unprepared I was for this wedding.
But I managed to get all packed up by 6a.m. One more call to U.S. Air confirming that my flight was on time, and I'm on my way. It had crossed my mind that finding a cab might be an obstacle, but I hadn't realized just how difficult it would be. (Like the hot water situation, it never occurred to me that people wouldn't be able to pump gas without electricity.) I had no idea where the bus to LaGuardia stopped, and I had no idea if it was running, but I began to head in the direction I imagined it must be … I don't know … I was feeling myself sliding toward panic mode when a cab appeared on the streets, and I managed to snag it. (Confession: As I said, it had crossed my mind that finding a cab might be a problem. I kind of figured that if any were available, there would probably be four or five people trying to grab it. So I wore my little denim skirt and a cute little shirt. So there's me and two other guys standing on three different corners of the same intersection trying to flag down this cab. It was an unfair advantage, but I've never been above the damsel in distress routine.)
And we're off to the airport. By the time I got a cab, I'd walked halfway there (almost literally) so it was a quick shot. We pull into the Arrivals area, I get one leg out of the cab and look up to see a U.S. Air agent hovering over me. "Everything's cancelled till at least noon. I suggest you don't lose this cab because you might not get another one." I sputter some things, which elicits from him the Hindsight-is-20/20 piece of advice, "Today's going to be a mess. You're better off flying out tomorrow," and he hands me a piece of paper with the U.S. Air customer service number, which you can now find on the speed dial of my cell phone.
Chris woke up when she heard me come back into the apartment. I was completely in the dark about what one does when one's flight is cancelled, but she's in travel for a living, so she gets on the phone with U.S. Air and gets me onto the 5:30p.m. flight. Okay. I was going to miss all the Friday bridal luncheon and rehearsal dinner stuff, but I'd be there for the wedding, and that's what's most important.
A little later on that morning, I call my friend Mary. The 5:30 flight is the same flight that she and her husband were taking out to Indianapolis, so I called to let her know. While I'm on the phone, my friend Kristen beeps in with news that the flight that she and our friend Kathleen are on had been cancelled, and that she's trying to get herself onto the 4:30 flight. I put down the phone, and it rings again shortly. It's Kathleen. She's at the airport. She has no idea what's going on, but all hell's breaking loose at LaGuardia. It's hot as hell, there are people every, there's no power, so there's no information about what's going on … So I tell her that her flight's canceled and to get the hell out of there. Kristen's trying for the 4:30, so maybe she should too. Yikes.
The other NYC bridesmaid Veronica had already headed out to Indianapolis the day before. I call her up to break the news that she was going to have to go it alone at the Friday festivities, and to give her an update on the situation here in NYC. There's pain in her voice about my absence, but at this point, she's more concerned about her husband Mark, who is a very competent doctor here in NYC, but who apparently isn't much good with the more practical aspects of life. I hang up with her, and two minutes later, Mark calls. And, indeed, he's flipping out. Which struck me as hilarious, because I've always known Mark to be this totally together guy. He's still at work in downtown Manhattan, and he's got no idea how to get to the airport for his 8:40 flight, the hospital still hasn't gotten power so that had him jumpy, and he's got no money because all the ATMs are down. Most significantly, he's knows that Veronica knows that he's a bit of a spaz, and she has informed him that she'll be really disappointed – not upset or angry, but "disappointed" – if he doesn't make it to this wedding, so he's all stressed out. I don't even know what I told him, just that his flight was still more than 8 hours away, I think, and a lot could happen between now and then, so there's no point even really beginning to think about it at this point.
By now we're coming up on Chris's 1:30 flight. She was running around trying get her last minute stuff together, so I call U.S. Air to confirm her flight, and they tell me she's delayed a half hour "due to weather." So I take this as a good sign. The computers must be functioning, her plane must either be at the airport or right in the vicinity, planes must be getting out. Good. Chris is on her way. The phone rings 20 minutes later. "Buh-da-ba-bing. The following is a message for Christine Kelly. Press any button to listen." Huh. "We regret to inform you that your flight has been canceled due to weather." Weather. Is that what they're calling the blackout these days? I try to reach Chris but I can't get through … Finally she calls me, and the conversation was much like the one I'd had earlier with Kathleen. She's at LaGuardia, it looks like a refugee camp, they're handing out water because it's so hot, nobody knows what's going on … I pass along the news that her flight's been cancelled, tell her to get in a cab, and let her know that I'll try to get her onto another flight.
I call U.S. Air, and the agent tells me she's got one seat on the 5:30 and plenty on the 8:40. Huh. "I know this is a total crap shoot, but do you think there's any sense in going with the later one?" She tells me she really can't say. So I decide to go for the later one, and ask her to change my flight to the 8:40, as well. She says, "I didn't want to influence your decision in case it didn't work out, but I think that's a good decision." So I call Mary to tell her I'm on the 8:40 with Chris and Mark, and she and Pete might want to consider bumping their flights too. Chris walks in the door and fills me in a bit more on the situation at LaGuardia. Lines everywhere, nobody knows which line is for what, chaos reigning …
Phone rings and it's Mark. "I'm at the airport." It's now around 1:25, and his flight's not till 8:40. "You're *where*?!" "Somebody at the hospital was leaving, and she offered me a ride. I didn't know if I'd be able to get here later, so I figured I should take what I could get. But now that I'm here, I don't know what to do. There are lines everywhere. I'm on one. Veronica thinks I should check in now, but I don't know whether I should." So I ask him whether they're even checking people in at this point, and he says, "I have no idea. I can't see that far." So I tell him that Chris and I are now on the same flight with him, and that he should get in a cab and come to our apartment because who the hell knows what's going to happen.
Mark shows up about 45 minutes later, and he's *elated*. He figures Veronica can't get mad at him now. He's with us, so if none of us make it, she'll know it's not because of anything he did wrong. The power's on in Queens, so there's air conditioning!!! And we can get lunch!!! And the ATMs work!!! We even got him a new battery for his watch that had died weeks ago, but he hadn't had time to get it fixed. Back at the apartment, Mark passed out on the couch, Chris passed out in bed, and I took a decent shower with the hot water. All's well.
Till the phone rings.
Mary and Pete had hung in for that 5:30 flight, but it had been canceled, so they're on the 8:40 now too. Okay. Then the phone rings again. Kristen's and Kathleen's 4:30 had been canceled, and the airline they're on isn't heading to Indianapolis again till 9a.m. Saturday. Not good. At about 5p.m. our phone rings, "Bah-da-bah-bing!" Yup, the 8:40 has been canceled.
At this point, the chicks spring into motion ... Long story short, me, Chris, Mary, Pete, and Mark get ourselves on the only flights to Indianapolis that have seats before Sunday. The problem is that these flights are out of Westchester, and all our Metrocards combined will do nothing to get us to the car-only accessible airport. We concoct a plan to have Pete's cousin drive us to my parents' (who were out of town) house that night, and then take their car to the airport the next morning.
So Chris, Mark, and I hop in a cab to Mary and Pete's apartment on the West Side of Manhattan. We're three blocks away when we almost kill someone. Like I'm not even kidding. The cab driver actually had to pull over and calm down for a second before he could drive again. We were flying to make it through a traffic light, and a kid on a scooter shot right in front of us. The cabby slams on the breaks, we skid through the intersection, and come to a stop inches away from a parked car. Honestly. The next three blocks are uneventful (mercifully!), and we're at Mary's and Pete's apartment. Pete's cousin shows up, and off we go to my parents.
In the interest of keeping long stories short, some highlights of my parents' house:
1. We discover that, out of habit, my Dad had taken the keys to the car with him to Indiana. (They'd gone out there for the wedding, too.) But the neighbors have a key!!! I procure the key from neighbors, who I'd never met before, but found to be just a little too entertained by our tale of woe for my tastes.
2. I lose the house keys and, after a frantic search, discover them in my pocket.
3. I lose the car keys and, after a frantic search, discover them in my pocket.
4. We go out for food, and a grasshopper jumps on our table.
5. We get back to the house. I get everybody situated in a bed. By this time it was after midnight. Chris sets the alarm for 2:45a.m.. Yup, the plan was to leave at 4a.m. so we could make our 6:30 flight.
So back to the story, a quick nap later, I'm in the shower … and we're all standing there at 4a.m. looking somewhat dazed. We're all *completely* delirious at this point, and everybody's running on pure adrenalin. We think we'll be the only people at dinky White Plains airport, but were we ever wrong. I suppose there weren't necessarily a lot of people there in terms of numbers, but relative to the space and personnel and ability to move these people, it was out of control. The security line was about an hour long. I guess a lot of people figured they'd be able to walk up and right onto their plane so they got there 45 minutes early, and now they're on the security line *freaking out* that they're going to miss their flight. Security tells them that everybody on this line is trying to catch a flight so there's nothing they can do. At one point the police need to be brought in to calm the masses (yes, seriously)…
Amazingly, our flight didn't take off too late. However, this couldn't be without incident, of course. "Incident" being that I don't like to fly, and I was not happy to discover that our plane to our connection in Boston was this rinky dink 8-seater job with a pilot who announced that we could "sit wherever we wanted" and then proceeded to pull up the door to the plane with a rope and, it appeared, tie it down to keep the door closed. I'm not the nervous breakdown type, so I'm not sure what a nervous breakdown looks like, but I think I had one. Because I started bawling. Right there on the plane. I was tired and stressed out and my bridesmaid dress was all rolled up in a duffle bag, and now, it turns out, I'm about to die in a firey plane wreck.
Happily though, the flight was smooth like you wouldn't believe. We spent half the flight going up, and half the flight coming down. Then we *tore* around the airport in Boston for awhile. Like literally, I wasn't sick in the air, but I almost barfed once we got back down on the ground. This guy had to be going 60mph, hauling around curves, everyone's being thrown all over the plane. It was ridiculous!
Happily as well, it turns out we were departing from the same gate that we arrived at (on a bigger plane, thank God!). It's completely separate from all the other gates, and everything's totally calm down there. And that's when I finally began to feel like I might actually make it. We call Kristen and Kathleen to see how they're faring back at LaGuardia with their 9a.m. flight, and they're about to board. Things are looking up.
And indeed, we made it. We landed in Indiana around 11:00. I went straight to the Church (for some reason the girls were getting ready there) and arrived at 11:30, with a whole hour to spare before we were to begin taking pictures. All the time a girl needs to transform from a weary traveler to a blushing bridesmaid in a big black dress. So whatever. The wedding and reception were fine. They were actually probably pretty nice, but I was too delirious to remember much of it. The only thing I do remember is that I must have been allergic to something I ate because toward the end of the reception, my tongue swelled up and started hurting so badly that I could hardly talk … By the time the reception ended at midnight, I was done. Which sucks because I always *hate* the person that goes to bed. But I was that person. So I got a good night's sleep. Woke up to a regular-sized tongue. Went to brunch with everyone. Called U.S. Air and found out our flight was delayed 45 minutes … What else is new?
And we're off to the airport again. This time around it was just me, Chris, Mary, and Pete. We checked in, walked through security, I rustled up the last New York Times. They call our flights and it boards faster, I believe, than any flight in aviation history has ever boarded. The flight attendant does his little thing he's got to do, we pull away from the gate, zip around the airport, turn a corner, and we're off. Nice smooth take off. The pilot comes on and tells us we've got great wind, we're going to arrive early, it should be smooth all the way to New York. Small child is screaming in my ear, but I don't really care. I'm relieved and happy, and I've got my Sunday New York Times, and everything's right in the world again.
Until I realize we're doing an awful lot of turning for a flight that's going from Indianapolis to New York. Then the bat phone rings on the plane and the flight attendant (who was very gay) was having a very stereotypically gay reaction to bad news, and he confers for awhile with the pilots, and then the pilot comes on. "Uh, the power has gone out again at LaGuardia. We're going to have to go back to Indianapolis." I turn around to Chris, who was sitting behind me, and she's got tears pouring down her face. She'd hung strong all weekend, but she had to crack sometime! I'm trying to calm her down, but inside I'm dying thinking, "We've already been in the air for an hour, so not only are we going to go back to Indianapolis, but it's gonna take an hour to get there." Then I hear, "Please prepare for landing." Yup, turns out we never got more than ten minutes out of Indianapolis. We'd just been going around in big circles. So next thing you know we're on the ground again.
At this point, Veronica and Mark had arrived at the airport for their flight, which was scheduled for two hours after ours, and they meet us at our gate looking incredulous. Apparently they'd arrived to their gate to find their flight labeled, "Delayed." Mark inquired about what that meant, and they told him that there was a power outage, and the flight before there's was heading back to Indy. So there we all were again. And it's freaking FREEZING in the airport. Grown men are walking around with their arms inside their shirts to keep them warm. I was thinking about busting out the bridesmaid dress to wrap up my legs. Finally a woman came through handing out blankets. It was so ridiculous.
Two hours later, we get an announcement that we're going to begin boarding again. Back onto the plane. The flight attendant looks like he's going to die. The pilot comes out and talks to us, and you could tell he was in as much pain as we were. Turns out this was their last flight of the day. I liked that whole solidarity thing. Made me feel a little better. He tells us we're going to take off at 6:15, and we did. And again, we're off. We're up for a little while, and the pilot's back on the speaker, "This is where they made us turn around last time, so hopefully it's a good sign that we've past it with no problems."
And we're flying, but then we're gaining lots of altitude, and the turning starts again. Thunderstorms in New York. A half hour of going in circles goes on, and then the pilot's back. "Alrighty, we had some thunderstorms, but we're clear for LaGuardia now." And we're flying. The we're going up again, and this time we turned in the other direction, which almost made me vomit. (I guess the ol' stomach had gotten used to turning to the right.) Then the pilot comes out of the cockpit muttering his way down the aisle to the bathroom. I'd become buddies with the flight attendant, so I asked him for the scoop, and he confirmed that we were circling again … Ug.
But we finally made it. Beautiful descent up the east side of Manhattan on a clear night. We landed 6 and ½ hours late, but I didn't even care. We were home. I have no idea what happened to Mark and Veronica; and last we'd heard from Kristen & co., they were stuck sitting on their plane at their gate … Hopefully they're all home now too!!!
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