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NEW YORK - Cell phones inoperative, people gathered on street corners, waiting in line for pay phones or listening to the radio for news. Crowds were trapped in subways. Masses of commuters in business suits and high heels walked uptown, out of town and over the Brooklyn Bridge in the summer heat.
And everybody wondered what the heck was going on.
The last time the city was anything like this, well, no one needs to say when that was.
"The feeling is obviously September 11th-esque," said Stephanie Rapaport, 34, who was taking in the scene while pushing her 14-month-old son's stroller along Broadway during the first hour of yesterday's power outage.
"Is something horrible happening," she said, "or have we just been using our air conditioners too much?"
Most bets seemed to be on the latter. So, this time, New Yorkers seemed a little nervous but were taking things in stride.
If there is such a thing as a not so mad, mad rush, Manhattan exemplified it during the first hours of the blackout of '03.
Maybe because they've seen much worse, maybe because everyone was forced to share the same anxieties and inconveniences, New York's walk home yesterday may have been long but not so terrible.
"We're New Yorkers, it's not a problem," said Peg Tarnowsky, 53, walking uptown in search of an uncrowded bus home to the Bronx. "After September 11, what's this? It's OK, just keep walking."
People stopped in the middle of their sidewalk commutes to line up 20-deep for hot dogs or sizzling slices of New York pizza, prompting a good number of "how they doing that?" questions from passers-by about the pie makers. The answer? Gas ovens.
With the stoplights out, drivers waited politely at intersections for cars and people to go by, policing themselves until the traffic cops and volunteers, including some homeless people, stepped in to help direct folks on their trips home.
At 5 p.m., though, so many cars were stuck downtown that, for the first rush hour since Sept. 11, 2001, the Upper Manhattan avenues heading out of town were eerily empty for long stretches of time.
Among the few unaffected commuters was Peter Rinaldi, 29, who was riding his mountain bike from work to his cat-sitting appointment in Upper Manhattan. En route, he hoped to stop off at a friend's shop, where he was expecting to eat some homemade ice cream that would otherwise go to waste.
"I ride my bike every day, rain or shine, just waiting for a brownout or blackout," said Rinaldi, who noted dryly that he was working as coordinator of volunteers for the blind when the lights went out.
"I feel like the mayor when I'm riding right now," he said. "Everybody's looking at me when I'm riding like I'm the king. Finally."
His one disappointment, he said, was that his all-time favorite movie - a foreign film called My Friend Ivan Lapshin - was supposed to get a screening last night. But there was no showing. "It's absolute tragedy," he said. "They better replay it."
Convenience stores and drugstores were packed with people stocking up on water, batteries, flashlights and candles. "Back to the Stone Age in matter of two hours," said Darko Latic, 18, as he waited in line for a radio and batteries.
The buying frenzy was essentially an advertisement for the Department of Homeland Security and its secretary, Tom Ridge, once widely mocked for suggesting people stock up on Armageddon goodies such as duct tape.
"We had prestocked, thanks to Tom Ridge, so who's laughing now," said a chuckling Ben Prager, 27, a filmmaker who was shopping with his wife, law student Dahlia Jacobs Prager, for non-necessities such as peanut butter while others cleared the shelves of bottled water.
And everybody wondered what the heck was going on.
The last time the city was anything like this, well, no one needs to say when that was.
"The feeling is obviously September 11th-esque," said Stephanie Rapaport, 34, who was taking in the scene while pushing her 14-month-old son's stroller along Broadway during the first hour of yesterday's power outage.
"Is something horrible happening," she said, "or have we just been using our air conditioners too much?"
Most bets seemed to be on the latter. So, this time, New Yorkers seemed a little nervous but were taking things in stride.
If there is such a thing as a not so mad, mad rush, Manhattan exemplified it during the first hours of the blackout of '03.
Maybe because they've seen much worse, maybe because everyone was forced to share the same anxieties and inconveniences, New York's walk home yesterday may have been long but not so terrible.
"We're New Yorkers, it's not a problem," said Peg Tarnowsky, 53, walking uptown in search of an uncrowded bus home to the Bronx. "After September 11, what's this? It's OK, just keep walking."
People stopped in the middle of their sidewalk commutes to line up 20-deep for hot dogs or sizzling slices of New York pizza, prompting a good number of "how they doing that?" questions from passers-by about the pie makers. The answer? Gas ovens.
With the stoplights out, drivers waited politely at intersections for cars and people to go by, policing themselves until the traffic cops and volunteers, including some homeless people, stepped in to help direct folks on their trips home.
At 5 p.m., though, so many cars were stuck downtown that, for the first rush hour since Sept. 11, 2001, the Upper Manhattan avenues heading out of town were eerily empty for long stretches of time.
Among the few unaffected commuters was Peter Rinaldi, 29, who was riding his mountain bike from work to his cat-sitting appointment in Upper Manhattan. En route, he hoped to stop off at a friend's shop, where he was expecting to eat some homemade ice cream that would otherwise go to waste.
"I ride my bike every day, rain or shine, just waiting for a brownout or blackout," said Rinaldi, who noted dryly that he was working as coordinator of volunteers for the blind when the lights went out.
"I feel like the mayor when I'm riding right now," he said. "Everybody's looking at me when I'm riding like I'm the king. Finally."
His one disappointment, he said, was that his all-time favorite movie - a foreign film called My Friend Ivan Lapshin - was supposed to get a screening last night. But there was no showing. "It's absolute tragedy," he said. "They better replay it."
Convenience stores and drugstores were packed with people stocking up on water, batteries, flashlights and candles. "Back to the Stone Age in matter of two hours," said Darko Latic, 18, as he waited in line for a radio and batteries.
The buying frenzy was essentially an advertisement for the Department of Homeland Security and its secretary, Tom Ridge, once widely mocked for suggesting people stock up on Armageddon goodies such as duct tape.
"We had prestocked, thanks to Tom Ridge, so who's laughing now," said a chuckling Ben Prager, 27, a filmmaker who was shopping with his wife, law student Dahlia Jacobs Prager, for non-necessities such as peanut butter while others cleared the shelves of bottled water.
