The Aftermath of a Blizzard

It takes a tremendous amount of energy to traverse NYC without public transit. We found that out when we went to meet friends on Monday evening. Walking through 20 inches of snow is tough anyhow, even with some of the sidewalks cleared up.

Things had finally broken loose from the ice and snow – somewhat when we ventured out about 6 in the evening. There are about 20% of the normal number of cabs you would find, but they won’t go down some streets. Interestingly enough, a lot of them aren’t running the meter, either. You tell them where you want to go and they quote a flat price for cash. I suspect this avoids payments to the cab companies, but leave that for them to work out amongst themselves.

We walked over to the designated meeting spot – a bar called “G Lounge” (225 W. 19th, between 7th and 8th) that we’ve gone to many times before. It’s bright enough and quiet enough (at least early in the evening) that you can both see and hear the people you’re talking to without having to shout like you’re at a football game. It gets louder and darker as they go into evening mode, of course, but by then it’s time to leave anyhow.

After drinks with friends four of us headed off to one of NY’s traditional diners (called “The Dish” (201 8th Avenue, between 21st and 22nd) we walked through the snow a bit and realized that this was hard work. You have to alternately “high step” through the deep parts and watch your footing in the slush and “cleared” places that were starting to refreeze.

The major streets have been cleared somewhat. I don’t mean to diminish what the crews have done – they have moved a butt load of snow. I think every municipal truck or vehicle that can have a snowplow bolted to it has one, and is running down the street moving the snow. They’ve clearly thought this out and are using their equipment efficiently, unlike cities in the south that seem to be amazed that it might actually snow in December.

It’s a bit odd to me to see a garbage truck with a snowplow and chains on, going down a city street throwing a wall of snow 8 ft. tall. There is a kind of poetic beauty to it, though. Beauty that is juxtaposed against the mountains of snow-covered trash that exist, garbage collection and recycling having been suspended because of the weather.

It’s especially exciting if you happen to be in the direction the snow is being thrown as the trash truck runs 20 miles an hour down an ice-covered street.

The problem with this, though, is that it’s creating these mountains of ice along the curbs. Most businesses have cleared their sidewalks, but there’s still the Alps to cross whenever you go from one side of the street to the other – about a 4 ft. dam of ice and snow. Some places have paths worked through them, but other times you have to walk around at your own peril. By the time Tuesday morning hits, those things will be frozen into glaciers, presumably moving toward the sea and scouring the curbs of flotsam and jetsam as they make their way along.

There are also wicked puddles of melted slush at some of the curbs, as one in our party found after he slipped and went to his knees. No injury other than to dignity, but a bit more damp than one would prefer.

After dinner, it was just too cold to stay out or go anywhere, and too difficult to get wherever we might have wanted to go anyhow. Subways and buses were still on limited service and delays (although we honestly didn’t notice any problems there in the neighborhoods we traversed). Lots of things were closing down by 9 or 10 p.m., which is early by NYC standards.

We opted for a conveniently available cab, ironically with a driver from a country that never sees snow. He had 4 wheel drive and felt entitled to use it so that he could run at his normal speeds despite the ice and snow, and of course the traffic lights, which are only the merest of suggestions in good weather, bore no meaning whatsoever under the current conditions.

This put a number of pedestrians at risk, leading us to the conclusion that it was worth the $10.00 to get a ride home rather than try to walk it since a lot of the other cabbies seemed to have the same idea and our black coats did little to make us stand out from the shadows. Being splattered across the hood of a car is not the way to end an evening out if it can be avoided at all.

It seems a shame to be home in bed by 11 when you’re in New York City, but sometimes maturity means being able to say, “This ain’t safe, and I’m tired anyhow. Let’s go home and go to bed.”

So that's what we did.