Hurricane Sandy came smashing into my life in a whirlwind of power outages, uprooted, severed trees, and wind speeds of 115 mph. Hurricane Sandy was an experience that shook me to my core, unsettling me from all previous notions that the great New York City was somehow impenetrable to mother nature’s forces.
I remember scouring the Internet a day before the storm, double and triple checking that our area of Chinatown wasn’t one of the most high-risked neighborhoods. I remember my family stocking up on water, batteries, candles, and preserved foods. I remember creating a duffle full of dried food and emergency money in case we had to go to safe house to rough out the storm. Supermarkets were packed to the gills, the shelves picked clean, residents frantically buying everything they could possibly need to endure the storm. All preparations were completed and the entire city waited with bated breath for the hurricane to strike. The hurricane began during the early morning. I remember sleeping fitfully the night before the storm. I woke up befuddled and scared, listening to the wind’s high pitched screams as it whistled past my apartment building at 115 mph, making the windows rattle and the brick foundation creak. The most severe part of the storm lasted until the afternoon; the sky was gray and muddy, the sun completely obscured, the snapping of tree branches added to the cacophony of loud, eerie whistling as the winds gusted past.
When the storm died down, people began sticking their heads out of the windows, the braver ones venturing out the front door, to observe the aftereffects of the storm. The city was a ghost town: all the shops closed, the windows shuttered, and the metal grates drawn. The streets were littered with leaves, tree branches, and pieces of garbage. Here and there, smalls shops opened for a few hours, selling a rapidly dwindling supply of dusty batteries and battered candles, day old bread and pastries, bringing in lines of customers that wrapped around the corner. Without electricity, the city had lost its soul. Without electricity, the city has lost the light, both literal and figurative, that came from the bright streetlights, bustling restaurants, and technological devices, as well as the hustle and bustle of the residents and the tourists. It was a truly a terrible week. My family began waking, working, and sleeping according to the sun: clustered by the windows in my room where the daylight was brightest, my sister and I catching up on homework while my parents read and re-read newspaper articles. Our daily meal was a never-ending cycle of cereal, bread, and granola bars. Hot showers were out of the question, and we drank water from our pre-packaged supply, fearful that the water supply was no longer safe because of the storm. Our only connection to the outside world was a small battery-run radio, and we would listen to it constantly for warnings in case we had to leave our area. School and work was cancelled that week, and the transit system was down. We became lethargic, feeling sleepy in front of the nightly candle, depressed from the lack of activity, purpose, and the short, short hours of sunlight. Our relatives called our landline, urging us to go to Brooklyn where life went on the same as usual. For them, electricity, hot water, and opened supermarkets flourished, and the hurricane was simply a week long vacation. We finally caved three days before the storm ended, hopping on the next bus heading out of lower Manhattan, and then laughing out loud as we watched the streetlights finally turn on one by one as we were driven out of the city.
Hurricane Sandy was, dare I say, an interesting experience. Many of my friends were unaffected by the storm, having a nice break from school in Queens and Brooklyn, but some who lived in the farther reaches of New York City were disastrously effected when their homes were destroyed. Hurricane Sandy was truly a terrible storm, not only because of the aftereffects of smashed homes destroyed by a mix of wind and seawater, but also because of the fear it inspired in a city known for its resilience and ability to overcome all odds.
