I was actually in NYC during the blackout. I was on the 16th Floor of 520 8th Avenue, playing
Camelot auditions at Ripley-Grier. None of us had any idea of what was going on.
Once we walked down to the ground floor, and started walking along the streets, we started picking up bits and pieces of news via people's car radios. It truly was such a "weird" time.
That day, I happened to be among some people who were in NYC during 9/11. They commented that they felt "safer" during 9/11 - even with the massive loss of life and the destruction of the World Trade Center. The power stayed on that day. People were able to watch the news reports on TV. People were chatting with their friends over the internet. People were able to watch TV. The cell phone towers were operational. In short, they knew what was going on, more or less.
I still remember that great sense of the "unknown" in the air that day of the blackout. We all kept looking to the horizon to see if there was some sign of smoke or fire, just some definite sign that some thing was happening. There were huddles of people on sidewalks around battery-operated radios. -And there were also huddles of people surrounding tables where batteries and candles were for sale. Most of "us" did not really find out what was going on until the following morning when we read the special editions of the newspapers - and I remember some of the newspapers were just being given out freely, as a public service of sorts.
However, as the evening approached that night, the word had spread from mouth to mouth to mouth that the power grid had blown. It was not a terrorist action. And that power had already started being restored to small pockets here and there. I was staying in the Village that night. It was very dark, but I felt very safe. In fact, it felt like the city was gearing up for one big slumber party. *And thankfully, I always carry a book of matches in my bag, and I had spotted where the candles were in the apartment I was staying in. What is it with gay men and their candles?
...And then waking up the next morning, and finding that the Italian bakery downstairs had hot, fresh-from-the-oven pastries - gas ovens!... Hmm... And Amtrak was basically running on time too - at least southbound.
