Two tones of New Yorker, there are those who are and those who aren't. I'm not entirely sure I am at liberty to say such things, after all I've been a seasonal resident for 5 years and only lived here for three months. But I am sure that most Commuters know that the G train is the George Washington Bridge of convenience. Even the L.I.E has better days than this train. When aboard such temperamental tracks one must let go all inhabitation. I have a zen-like platform patience, and after a 15 minute wait during rush hour I say to myself, there are only two ways to this tunnel, and those five trains in a row going north bound, will eventually go south. And I wait. Aboard said train is like any in the city. engineers test the earth's content with core samples, we ride through them. I enter at the vein of baked goods, enter hipsters, Hassid's, more hipsters and finally the house of D, which is where I get off. Yesterday as I was sampling the core of the G and the train made one loud thump, and stopped. There was no coasting, or flash of blue light, the emergency lights turned on and the samples stared at one and other, dumbly. The scientist interrupted our chattery head space and informed us that the train has stopped. There was little relief, for that was obvious and immediately we began to deduce our own theories. I remember one guy on the train, for I am a suspicious fellow and can't help but notice things which should go unnoticed. He was an odd fellow, somewhere lost in the Williamsburg scene, yet working for Municipal. I'll tell you I know everything about everyone in that car, I'll tell you that now, so you know that sometimes I speculate and sometimes I just listen. I was speculating, that this guy was bad news. He needed attention I knew that the moment he walked on the train, so it was no surprise to me that though I was surrounded by other hipsters, the two of which were from Richmond Virginia, the other two Apartment shopping in Greenpoint. Lost boy came right up us, fearless, wishing for cooing or something, he was hanging on the handrails and standing on the seats, he was talking about riots and looting, not loudly but not helpfully either. I steered clear of him when we exited the catwalk. Richmond girls where cute and young, they had super hip haircuts and were maybe 17. One wore a hound's-tooth black and white skirt to the knees with a studded belt, the other had just custom tailored a brown t-shirt to fit her, I-love-bread-and-lets-have-cereal-for-dinner, none of this effects me because I still manage to not sleep all night because i'm so young and cute, body. The other women Young Soon and Jessica were the newly room mates. The lets find like the best place, not to expensive, centrally located optimists. Their chatter, which continued the entire hour and a half wait in the lobster pot of a subway, was undying, and all I have to say is this. Jeremy, if you read this get out, get out while you still can, Jessica is insane. The terrorist ready subway conductor was rarely informative during this vigil of delay.
"Uhhh. ladies and gentlemen. We are still stopped, the electricity is turned off, we cannot go. I will tell you when we move. Thank you for your patience and thank you for riding the MTA."
He would say this a bout 10 times but different every time. Then he'd run from one side of the train to the other, I dunno why, but it added to the samples redundant questioning. Then he'd say "Ladies and Gentlemen the train it will not move, but I am supposed to inform you of this a lot, but please don't try to get off the train, it is much safer here. It's really dark."
Then I fell asleep, listening to Jessica constantly bad mouth Jeremy. It wasn't much of sleep, I think it was actually oxygen depravation, the oxygen which Jessica and Young Soon seemed to be taking up. It got hot, but then the fearless calvary came. Big men wearing orange vests and flashlights. The conductor told us that they would helps us. There was an emergency exit 200 feet from the train. I imagined a Phantom of the Opera escape, that we would emerge in some unknown park through a huge stone archway through doors which never open...except for the mole people. This thought feed me for a while, I tried to ignore my thirst. We were instructed to the back of the train, I kept creepy boy in front of me, and watched him push his way past mothers and elderly. We didn't have to walk the track. I was glad for this, for I'd just left my job, ironically, at the MTA Museum, which is inside an old station, I knew well enough the Mung shmeg which collected everywhere. The cat walk was all of 2 feet wide so I lightly fingered the handrail covered in said shmeg. The Calvary bravely strobed the platform with what little light they could provide as we shuffled calmly to the exit. The dusty knight at the exit steps informed us of the world above. "The entire eastern seaboard has collapsed, blackouts in a dozen states." I thought he was joking.

So when you walk the streets of New York and tread across a big yellow plate in the middle of the sidewalk and wonder what it is, guess what? it's an exit! Now we know. I was lucky, half a stop from home I walked across Mac Carren Park blinded mole person that I am.

During times of crisis I talk to myself out loud. I just found this out. "Where's the flashlights, and the camp gear. I need more batteries, they're in the truck. How's Simon, he needs a cold bath, so do I. kate shut the fuck up." Like a good cowboy all was prepared, candles, flashlights, and fuel all laid out ready for the coming night. I took the dog for a walk.

Cell phones don't work in black outs so I resorted to the great psychic sensibilities the same which kept me eyeing freaky lost-boy. Fortunately this time it was useful. I ran into Mike, Heath and Doug at the Pencil Factory, elated, but moments late since no one had any money I sipped their beers. Atms don't work either. We sat and compared horror stoies and moments of chance. Doug and Heath walked across the Williamsburg bridge, Mike had just gotten back from camping on the beach. The sun was going down, the streets became more animated.

Electricity. We obey it. Last night power was the mother at the bottom of the stairs. "I hear you girls up there, go to bed right now!" No traffic lights, no street lights, people cooking gathered outside their homes with children, cars and motorcycles dragging for no one down the streets. I loved it. It was a human energy which goes somewhere else when the lights work. Doug, Mike and I took a walk to the water to see the non-skyline. Someone brought up the movie 28 Days later, we were excited. I've never seen anything like it. The Empire, the Chrysler, dark, all of midtown Manhattan back lit by New Jersey. We stood and wondered. The Park's basketball court was still warm and just as quiet as the night, no air conditioners, a few planes and sirens, just the deep hum of water traffic along the East river. We laid down and gazed at the stars as if we were in our small hometowns. There were few inconveniences of not having power in the last 23 and a half hours. As the systems regain and become normal, I will miss this moment the most.


Yesterdays best blackout story goes to. My roommate Colleen. When asked, where were you when the lights went out? she told me.
I was on the J (subway) reading my book. After 20 minutes of waiting in the tunnels, I asked what stop we were near. The man sitting next to me said 8th Ave. She started to laugh and replied, "Oh shit I missed my stop!"