Even with a hurricane brewing New Yorkers march forward with gusto, downplaying the warnings and, if anything, annoyed at the inconvenience.
Call it the 9/11 effect.
I first noticed it during the 2003 Blackout when New Yorkers, relieved that it wasn’t another terrorist attack, piled into streets of Chelsea / West Village where I lived at the time partying. On quaint, cobble stone streets residents had impromptu jam sessions, drank sangria and grilled meats purchased at the corner deli’s fire sale. Before then, I never knew a New Yorker who owned a grill.
We received word yesterday morning to evacuate our Zone A apartment. As Savannah and I rode the subway to a dive hotel near Penn Station, we were greeted with typical New York cynicism.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” a fellow subway passenger said, rolling her eyes as she checked out our bags. “It’s media hype.”
Perhaps. This morning the delis and restaurants surrounding our Seventh Avenue hotel carried on as usual. Tourists flocked to Time Square and cabbies roamed the streets looking for fares. I even made a quick dash to my office for some papers.
The “party-while-you-can” attitude has even trickled down to the younger set. Pre-hurricane, Savannah received a call from her pal Lucas in our building. His family refused to evacuate, though gas, water and the elevator was shut down promptly at 5:00 p.m. yesterday. He was looking for the kid equivalent of a blackout party – a hurricane playdate.
Why am I not surprise?