This morning, I got a call from my grandma, who lives in Madras, Oregon. She wanted to make sure that I had registered the fact that a hurricane is on its way to Brooklyn. Also, that the subways would begin shutting down at noon.
This is the power of mass media: We can all experience each others’ natural disasters first hand.
I’m not freaking out about Irene, but I have made a few sensible precautions: water, cat food, beer… I guess that’s it. Oh, I brought all of my plants in off the fire escape. No need for my Thai peppers to become dangerous projectiles.
I’m not letting Irene consume my brain, but I do think it’s a fitting farewell, a nice bookend to mark the last few months in New York. Because while we’ve experienced numerous nor’easters, tropical storms and blizzards, as well as a transit strike, a plane crash out my office window and, most recently, an earthquake, we have yet to face an honest hurricane.
I really hope the electricity doesn’t go out.
As of about half an hour ago, this is what the radar looked like:
The middle of Irene is still hundreds of miles away, but it’s already raining pretty hard, intermittently. I want to get lots of regular things done today, but it’s kind of hard when you’re waiting to see how insane the weather gets in the next 28 hours.
We’re waiting till the last minute to take the air conditioner out of our window. It’s very humid.
Waiting for a hurricane brings strange things to mind. For example:
While not about an actual hurricane, this song does take place here in the NYC metro area (Paterson, NJ): “…Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down…”