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NEW YORK (Aug. 15) - Some New Yorkers held impromptu barbecues and ice cream socials while others were forced to walk miles to get home in the wake of the massive power outage that gave many a sense of Sept. 11 deja vu.
The throngs walking through Central Park unnerved Linda Steiner, a mother of two who was at a playground with her son, Simon, who was born a month before Sept. 11, 2001.
''I remember watching on TV, seeing all the people walking through the city, and this is what this reminds me of,'' Steiner said. ''It brings all those memories back.''
If other New Yorkers felt that way, they did not show it, instead choosing to make the best of things. Freezers were emptied of meat that was thrown on the grill, and ice cream was gobbled before it melted.
Many chose drink over food to numb the pain of dealing with no electricity, no subway service and no air conditioning. At the Electric Banana Bar in midtown Manhattan, bartender Mark Potter's candlelight pitch was a simple one.
''Drink 'em while they're still cold,'' he said - and they did, lining up three deep at the bar. Potter planned on staying open until all the candles burned out. At 8 p.m., when customers started bringing their own candles from home, he figured he was in for a long night.
Most restaurants in the city closed quickly, but Ellen's Stardust Diner, a popular tourist spot in midtown Manhattan, remained open, preparing meals by candlelight, offering a small menu of sandwiches, salad and ice cream, said manager Mrinal Ghosh.
Tourists joined New Yorkers on city streets and marveled at the way the natives were coping.
''Everyone just seems to go with the flow, so I guess we will, too,'' said Emma Goin, 35, of Dallas, as she sat on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. ''There's not much to do about it, so we'll make the best of it.''
Others weren't as laid back, yelling at Johnie Raymond, as he bicycled past them near Central Park. Raymond peddles a bike carriage for the Manhattan Rickshaw Company and had to turn down requests, including one from a woman stranded near the Brooklyn Bridge who needed to go about six miles north.
''Normally I just go around Times Square to pick up tourists, but today I've been as far south as Wall Street and as far north as Central Park,'' Raymond said Thursday.
Walking was the mode of transportation for many, and some - mostly women who wore fashionable but uncomfortable sandals to work - had to stop to buy sensible footwear. Adrienne Onofri, 39, from Queens, was luckier, as she passed pedestrians on her in-line skates going over the Queensboro Bridge.
''I was lucky I left my skates at work,'' Onofri said.
At hotels across the city Thursday night, managers were turning away guests because they couldn't charge the magnetic card keys used to enter rooms. Others filed up the rooms - and any other available space.
New York Palace guests claimed floor space in the hotel's ballrooms and meeting rooms. At the Warwick, a steady stream of stranded walk-ins had to be turned away, said manager Wanda Chan.
``We can't sell rooms with no water and no power,'' she explained.
On the sidewalks outside, lines at hot dog stands were 10 deep as thirsty customers snatched up the last of the cold drinks. Many of the other stranded tourists and business people, some of whom had climbed down many flights of stairs when the power went out, were scouring the city for something harder to drink.
Jack Roberts, manager of the Heartland Brewery a few blocks north of Times Square, was turning away sweaty patrons as he worried that his huge vats of beer were going to go bad. But bars that stayed open were doing big business, serving drinks swiftly as their ice melted.
The crowd at Blue Fin on 47th and Broadway spilled out into the lobby. At Sophia's Italian restaurant a few blocks away, manager Ronnie Hossain joked about jacking up the price of tonic water.
He had to close the kitchen and cancel the performance of Tony and Tina's Wedding, but the bar was packed.
Michael and Maureen Morlath of Yardley, Pa., came in off the dark street to find a bathroom at Sophia's. With no way out of town, they settled into a pair of barstools.
Ashley Harrison, who lives in the Houston area, and Hayley Fulbright, of Wilmington, Del., slumped on the floor of the Marriott Marquis' dark lobby along with dozens of other long-faced visitors. ``We're a little freaked out,'' Harrison said.
They had planned to leave the city Thursday afternoon, but their car was trapped in the hotel's garage.
``We took pictures of Times Square not lit up,'' Fulbright said, as she sipped a warm Sprite.
The throngs walking through Central Park unnerved Linda Steiner, a mother of two who was at a playground with her son, Simon, who was born a month before Sept. 11, 2001.
''I remember watching on TV, seeing all the people walking through the city, and this is what this reminds me of,'' Steiner said. ''It brings all those memories back.''
If other New Yorkers felt that way, they did not show it, instead choosing to make the best of things. Freezers were emptied of meat that was thrown on the grill, and ice cream was gobbled before it melted.
Many chose drink over food to numb the pain of dealing with no electricity, no subway service and no air conditioning. At the Electric Banana Bar in midtown Manhattan, bartender Mark Potter's candlelight pitch was a simple one.
''Drink 'em while they're still cold,'' he said - and they did, lining up three deep at the bar. Potter planned on staying open until all the candles burned out. At 8 p.m., when customers started bringing their own candles from home, he figured he was in for a long night.
Most restaurants in the city closed quickly, but Ellen's Stardust Diner, a popular tourist spot in midtown Manhattan, remained open, preparing meals by candlelight, offering a small menu of sandwiches, salad and ice cream, said manager Mrinal Ghosh.
Tourists joined New Yorkers on city streets and marveled at the way the natives were coping.
''Everyone just seems to go with the flow, so I guess we will, too,'' said Emma Goin, 35, of Dallas, as she sat on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. ''There's not much to do about it, so we'll make the best of it.''
Others weren't as laid back, yelling at Johnie Raymond, as he bicycled past them near Central Park. Raymond peddles a bike carriage for the Manhattan Rickshaw Company and had to turn down requests, including one from a woman stranded near the Brooklyn Bridge who needed to go about six miles north.
''Normally I just go around Times Square to pick up tourists, but today I've been as far south as Wall Street and as far north as Central Park,'' Raymond said Thursday.
Walking was the mode of transportation for many, and some - mostly women who wore fashionable but uncomfortable sandals to work - had to stop to buy sensible footwear. Adrienne Onofri, 39, from Queens, was luckier, as she passed pedestrians on her in-line skates going over the Queensboro Bridge.
''I was lucky I left my skates at work,'' Onofri said.
At hotels across the city Thursday night, managers were turning away guests because they couldn't charge the magnetic card keys used to enter rooms. Others filed up the rooms - and any other available space.
New York Palace guests claimed floor space in the hotel's ballrooms and meeting rooms. At the Warwick, a steady stream of stranded walk-ins had to be turned away, said manager Wanda Chan.
``We can't sell rooms with no water and no power,'' she explained.
On the sidewalks outside, lines at hot dog stands were 10 deep as thirsty customers snatched up the last of the cold drinks. Many of the other stranded tourists and business people, some of whom had climbed down many flights of stairs when the power went out, were scouring the city for something harder to drink.
Jack Roberts, manager of the Heartland Brewery a few blocks north of Times Square, was turning away sweaty patrons as he worried that his huge vats of beer were going to go bad. But bars that stayed open were doing big business, serving drinks swiftly as their ice melted.
The crowd at Blue Fin on 47th and Broadway spilled out into the lobby. At Sophia's Italian restaurant a few blocks away, manager Ronnie Hossain joked about jacking up the price of tonic water.
He had to close the kitchen and cancel the performance of Tony and Tina's Wedding, but the bar was packed.
Michael and Maureen Morlath of Yardley, Pa., came in off the dark street to find a bathroom at Sophia's. With no way out of town, they settled into a pair of barstools.
Ashley Harrison, who lives in the Houston area, and Hayley Fulbright, of Wilmington, Del., slumped on the floor of the Marriott Marquis' dark lobby along with dozens of other long-faced visitors. ``We're a little freaked out,'' Harrison said.
They had planned to leave the city Thursday afternoon, but their car was trapped in the hotel's garage.
``We took pictures of Times Square not lit up,'' Fulbright said, as she sipped a warm Sprite.
:D
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