Shade and John vs. The Incredible Hulk

August 17, 2003 - At Madame Tussaud's on 42nd Street

Blackout 2003

4:11pm

I was at work in midtown on Madison replying to an email John sent when everything went out. We heard noise in the hall and they were out too. Looked across the street and that building's occupants were also looking confused. The PA system cracked on letting us know the power was out and we could leave the building or stay. I looked outside and there were already hundreds of people out on the streets.

I called John and it just rang and rang. Called his cell and answer service leaving three messages total to get the chins in the bedroom where it's cooler and to get ice. Of course he wouldn't be able to hear any of these, but I had to try. I grabbed my bag and said, Hey Phil! It's time to go! Phil replied: I've got a job to finish! Okay, Phil! Finish that job!

Loped down the 10 flights of stairs with my right foot killing me, found a slew of people already filling up the streets and made my through up Madison. Crossing 42nd Street was interesting. Do the cars go? The people? The people seemed to be 'winning' so I crossed with them. Little bits of information were coming through as I walked up Madison: "Brooklyn too." "All the way down to Maryland."

I thought about all the people in hospitals with tools going off in the middle of surgery. I thought about my dentist's office and a drill in the middle of someone's tooth.

Crossed over on 50th and still a lot of people around who didn't seem to 'get it.' The open doors of hotels were great. Big blasts of cool air seeping out into the heat. Mostly everyone was pretty okay about it. I didn't see too much confusion, but some people obviously felt this shouldn't be happening 'to them' and were trying to muscle into cabs, etc.

When I got home John was already putting ice into jars for the chins to cuddle up to. We closed the blinds to keep the sun out, checked the temperature, and went out. I sat on the steps of the library while John went to find more ice. Talked with a nice woman who had a long haul up to Innwood who was taking a break. Overall, everyone was pretty cool about it, even in the heat. I grabbed a couple candles and some water and met John at the door, we checked on the chins, and checked out the outside world.

Ninth Avenue was just insane. Cars bumper to bumper filling up the entire block. The cross streets were not letting up. We walked into Times Square and saw all these people sweating outside the hotels. No one seemed sure of where to go. Businesses had already closed, food was scarce. Even though it was daytime it was still really wild to have all the TV screens showing only black, and no street lights coordinating traffic. 42nd Street itself with no lights. Whoa. Seeing that giant McDonald's marquee down was definitely a high point of the day.

We walked by Ben & Jerry's thinking they should be giving away all that melted sugary goo. We walked up 9th with its slew of stillbound traffic and noticed one cab with a fare of $22.50. The passengers got in on 57th. We were at 49th. We asked another guy how long he had been waiting. He said, "I've got 10 blocks in three hours." Whoa! We went back home to rest a moment and check on the chins, and went back out. Night was falling. Amazingly the Afghan Kebab House was serving food outside by propping the interior tables on the street. A short wait scored us a roadside table and I picked up a beer to wash down my yummy Combo Kabuli Palow, which took a little longer than usual, but the street scene was too much fun. A couple of cool ladies stood near us waiting for a to-go order and we chatted them up, laughing about it all, even though we were well aware that some folks would be trapped in subways and elevators and wouldn't be enjoying this quite as much as we were.

After dinner we checked on the chins again and made our way back out for the real pitch-black dark of night. I left the video camera inside, with only the barest translated 'memory' of the '77 blackout, and the first steps were incredibly freaky up our block, flashlights occasionally winking in our eyes the only swath cut through the black, but it proved unfounded, and I lost some great video opportunities in the Square. Posh, the gay bar on our block, was 60 deep out into the street with half-naked men, and women, enjoying the anarchy of the evening. Into the Square was the best part. We chose the darkest sidestreet, I think it might've been 48th, and worked our way in. Wild walking through the darkness. Some moonlight spoiled our fun, but otherwise it was like a whole 'nother world. a world that most of humanity past had as their everyday reality.

We exited onto a moonlit-only 8th Avenue depleted of vehicles. We had to walk down the middle of the street, because we could. Just one flare lit up the corner of 46th and 8th. At 44th we chose a left down the dark block with only the moon-reflecting white mask of the Phantom as light. Wild! I just had to have a beer in one hand and my dick waving out of my pants walking down the middle of the dark block. I just had to! As we saw a blink of light and a whirr of an engine as we got closer to Broadway, my special friend was zipped back up into his home and we saw an incredible sight. Hundreds of people, all nationalities and dollar-owning levels, sleeping on the concrete. One woman used her Louis Vuitton bag as a pillow. A saw a daughter sleeping with her head laid in her father's lap, his back against an iron grating. The entire cab staging area at the Marriott was filled with hot humidity-ridden people. We turned down Broadway and saw an ice cream truck. Sounded like fun until we saw the line of 60 adults waiting for sweet, cold, sugary cream. We trailed down past the heated stragglers to 42nd Street. Black black black. And only 10:30 at night! No flashing lights, no traffic, and only two hot food stands with lines 20 people deep. We stood in line ourselves finding a small bottle of Poland Spring elevated to $2 a bottle, but heck, it was party night, so whatever.

We thought it would be a kick to stand in line at the Mr. Softee truck and people would come by and video us from time to time. There was also a larger news camera. I got a cherry dip and John got I think a chocolate dip. We walked back up Broadway, past families laying together on the concrete, down a few more dark streets and came home to our wonder chins wanting to come out so bad. The temperature had lessend a bit and we drained the water in their ice jars and refilled them (our freezer was doing a good job of keeping things cool, even without power), and listened to radio broadcasts on a walkman, and I finally crashed.

Around 8:30am I heard radio and people talking and the power had come back on. Judging from the time on the alarm clock, it probably came back on around 7:45am. The phones still weren't working and the cable was still out until around 8pm. We wandered into Times Square again and most things seemed pretty normal. The people were off the sidewalk and the lights were on again. Breakstone's Ice Creamery was still closed, and the lights in the cases showed a gooey mixture of pinks and greens and bits of fruit.

And they were already selling "I Survived the Blackout" t-shirts. How they made the t-shirts overnight with no power, or even shipped them in from wherever they had been made, is beyond me, but in America, if there's a dollar to be made off tragedy, you can bet someone's working overtime to figure it out.

Roman on his first day with us



More pictures of our first day with Roman

Roman

Our boy Roman - R.I.P.

Last night John and I ordered a pizza at the restaurant, paid in advance, and went home to wait for the delivery person. He came and didn't speak English and didn't understand we had already paid. I went into the living room to get the phone so we could call, but when I came back John had already convinced the man we paid.

I took a step back, turned on my right foot and stepped with my left, and Roman, our darling Wilson White chinchilla boy, dashed right under my foot in a half-second. John didn't have to time tell me, and I was wearing a sandal on my left foot. I just heard a crunch, wondered if I stepped on a plastic cup (even though I had just cleaned), looked down, and saw his paws.

I lifted up my foot and yelled out, Oh no Roman! I stepped away and he lay there on his side with blood around his head on the floor. He was twitching and I looked for the hospital number on the fridge (it wasn't there) and then called 411, which took a couple tries. We got a recording that the hospital was open 24 hours for emergencies. John had already grabbed Roman and said he was going and he grabbed a cab. I pulled out the carrying box, grabbed my keys and also ran out and caught a cab. I got there just as John was entering the hospital. I asked, and John shook his head: no. Roman had passed.

I cannot tell anyone what it's like to lose a chinchilla. Roman was our special boy. Beautiful white all over, gray ears, and just so lovable and sweet. He easily demurred to Olive's domain, and was an incredibly loving father to his first daughter, Valentine (2/15/03), and his two new daughters, Varla and Ilsa, both born on July 20, 2003.

Roman was born March 5th, 2002, and was brought to us in June 2003 from Big Apple Chinchillas. He was very skittish for some time. He never felt comfortable jumping in our hands, which Olive loves to do. Olive had bit off a toe after he was here a week, and in the next week she had nipped his ear. After several months we let them out to play, and they became instant, loving friends.

I don't know if the other chins have figured out that Roman is gone. I don't know that John and I have really figured it out either. We do know that it was just an incredibly unfortunate accident, and that we're going to have exercise even stronger precautions if they're out running about (we already remove our shoes in most situations). I saw Roman standing in the kitchen when I went to get the phone, and had no idea he ran right under my foot. It was almost like suicide, but that's totally against chinchilla behavior.

Right now he's in refrigeration at the pet hospital. They cleaned him up for us there, and luckily the damage was all interior and he looked fine. We pet him for awhile and kissed him and left him there for now. We have no yard to bury him in, cremation sounds wrong for such a beautiful creature, freeze drying sounds a bit odd, and we're not sure we need to invest in a cemetery plot.

We love you, Roman. Thanks so much for being here. Your wife and daughters will miss your nose bumps and running and playing very much, and so will we.

We'll always wonder what life we may have had in the coming years, as you learned to trust us more, and maybe jump in our hands. You were so good at the hospital when you were neutered in May, the doctors just loved you. I remember the look on your face when the doctor first held you.

We're so glad for the year and few months we were able to spend with you, and you with us. Thanks for being here, Roman. You truly enriched our lives and we love you forever.

Roman Rupe-Kinsherf
March 5th, 2002 -- August 16th, 2003

From Shade, John, Olive, Valentine, Ilsa and Varla