Our power went out during the hurricane, the whole town was black; we just didn’t know that most of the Northeast was also down. As the Supers, my housemate and I were under siege to every question and rumor.
The first business to open on Main Street was NOT the convenience stores, it was the @#$ Liquor Stores! Seriously, wasn’t there enough partying during the hurricane? I swore that I would rat them out in this blog.
We expected some drinking, a Hurricane Party is traditional. I did not expect the drinking to continue for days. Yep, the liquor stores did well.
The epicenter of the party was the unemployed rock ‘n roll demi-god, whose stories of his glory days only get grander and more boring as the nite wears on; and damn, he has worn me out with his sad tales.
He found a new friend on the ground floor, whom he graciously invited to ride out the storm upstairs, ya know, in case his apartment flooded.
Altruistic thoughtfulness, my a**! The young dude brews his own beer . . . and it has a wicked kick: yeah, free party favors.
These two were joined by another tenant and neighbor. Yep, FOUR guys drinking, running up and down the balconies, gale force winds with raging ocean waters that chewed through the dunes and up our street.
Four drinkers and a hurricane . . . joy.
Without cell phones, some began bellowing to each other across the parking lot, up and down the decks, they were soooo #$@# rude. This continued for the entire week.
It was cold, it was windy. They also hung out on the decks very late each nite: in the cold and wet, drinking and guitars. They were Frat Boys on Spring Break.
Dang I missed cell phones.
Tenants complained, often, forcing me to walk up the decks, in my jammies, to tell the idiots to drink indoors. One jerk asked if I was wearing one of those Snuggies advertised on TV. Sure, that was funny at 2 a.m.
Early morning after storm, first tenant in parking lot, yelled up to his friends on the top floor, frustrated because the police had forced him back home.
I came out, dude was loud and people might actually be sleeping.
1st Tenant: “The cops turned me back home, we can’t drive out of town. There is no place in this town to get coffee! I haven’t had any coffee, where can I buy coffee?”
Me: “Come upstairs, I have coffee!”
1st Tenant: “Really, you have coffee? Where did you get it?”
Me: “I made it.”
Tenant: “How? We don’t have power.” As he bolted up the stairs to grab a cup, he kinda looked like the Roadrunner cartoon character.
Really, ya couldn’t boil water and pour it thru the coffee filter to make a cup?
Yes, I made a LOT of coffee this week, made friends with tenants who normally weren’t friends. Fresh hot coffee brewed all day long, made my home a great place to share news, needs and vent frustrations.
Big thanks to two tenants who manage a Dunkin' franchise, they generously shared bags of coffee. Bless them. I have thanked them many times over.
2nd Tenant, came by after work to share the news that she had. Now this tenant NEVER spoke to me before, but when I offered her fresh, hot coffee, we became best friends and she hung out every day, lingering over really great coffee. I knew that I could win her over (maybe it was the Dunkin coffee). She also brought reliable news from her job from her coworkers. Reliable news of who had power, and who had access to ANY news media was precious.
3rd Tenant complaining: “How long will the power be out?”
Me: “Not sure, 7 to 10 days.”
Tenant, loud: “7 to 10 days?! I can’t go that long without power!”
(Like there is a choice, like I can do ANYTHING about the problem, as if I am sitting warm and pretty somewhere sipping a pina colada. Like you’re the first one to complain to me. Appreciate the gift: our homes and cars are intact.)
Me: “Ya know what, I am NOT God this week.”
Tenant: silence
That phrase became my mantra. Notta thing we could do but hunker down.
Tenant(s): “When will the lights come back on?”
Me: “When the lights flicker, that’s a sign.”
Repeat: “I am not God this week, I do not know.”
Truthfully, when the lights did come on, I was sitting in my car surfing the Internet. When I heard the tenants yelling, I wouldn’t even look up to see the commotion, I did want another problem! But the sight of all those deck lights flickering was like watching arcade games come back to life. Yeehaw!
There is a tenant I call Eeyore, the sad donkey from Winnie the Pooh.
Eeyore: “Do you think that it would help if I called the power company?”
Me: “Like you’re the first one to complain? Like they don’t know?”
Eeyore: “Do you think it’s the money towns that will get the power first?”
Me: “Explain how Manahawkin got power. That is not a money town!” (It is a rural town in South Jersey and very close to the barrier islands.)
Eeyore: “I go to these Bible studies, do you think that this is a sign of the end times?”
Really, discuss politics AND religion?! Groan.
Repeat: “I am not God this week, I do not know.”
Tenant(s): “Where can I get gas, I am almost out?!”
This was Day One after the storm!
Didn’t ya hear the news about the ginormous storm, or read the flyer that I posted on EVERY door, warning to take precautions: stock up, buy gas, batteries, cigarettes, etc. And you cry that your tank is empty?
We cook with gas, some stoves have an electric ignition . . . BUT use a match and light the burners. Had to give instructions about pots of water and burners for heat and cooking.
This WARMED the place up; I would not say that it ever GOT warm.
Well, campfire-style bathing is not my favorite, but a big bowl of steaming water, mixed with some cool water from tub faucet, worked darn well. It felt so good to pour a bucket or two of heated water over my frozen body, quickly towel off, then put on several layers of clothing.
As a woman, washing hair is only part of the problem, lack of a blow dryer for styling made me resort to the old-fashioned standby: curlers. Yes, I actually had a few in the drawer, but when I finished rolling up my hair, my mother’s face stared back at me. Groan. She came back to haunt me. I did have share some laughs while showing off the curlers underneath my kerchief.
And yes, my hair was styled, no ponytails for me.
My housemate and I needed to get away from the tenants, rumors and complaints. We also needed to find a cell phone tower and call the building owners and our families, and charge our cell phones.
The whole town was black, we just didn’t know that most of the Northeast was down; we were in a news desert. We did not know the extent of the devastation. We did not know that just a few blocks over, homes were destroyed.
Under the pretense of searching for a gas station for the tenants, we drove 10 miles to find a cell phone signal. No kidding, 10 miles! We were horrified to see rows of telephone poles snapped in half; trees thru houses; and the endless carnage of households gutted, furniture, toys and possessions in huge piles of black bags at the curb. I am so grateful: we only lost power.
Home Depot was open, running on generators, and they were so needed.
All traffic lights were out. Cones were placed across intersections to prevent left-hand turns. The police did allow some crazy U-turns on the highway. That was fun.
We drove a 40 mile loop and found not one open gas station and only two working traffic lights, all was dark. The worst was passing entire neighborhoods cordoned off: the pall of tragedy broke our hearts.
We lost power and heat for 6 nights, that is all. We had plenty of running water, drinkable water, boiling wasn't necessary. We were blessed. Some tenants needed to stop complaining.
While driving around, we were finally able to get warm, thawed out and able to escape from complaints that we were powerless to alleviate.
Repeat, “I am not God this week.”
We were blessed. Our block had minimal damage. No lives were lost. Grace of God.
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