November 19, 2018--Ice Storm

For a moment late last week it did feel as if the world was ending. It didn't, but perhaps we got a preview.

In the West, mainly in California, it felt that the entire state was being consumed in flames, with hundreds, perhaps thousands incinerated. It felt literally hellish. 

Some of the millennialist persuasion, always alert to signs of the End, claimed that it was in fact the (upper case) End and that the Antichrist was in our midst (someone other than Hillary Clinton this time) and the Rapture was imminent.

And in the East, not nearly as deadly or terrifying, the entire region was shut down in tri-state gridlock that was the result of a paralyzing snow and ice storm. Though "only" 6.4 measurable inches fell in New York City, a city that both never sleeps and prides itself in shrugging off 20-inch blizzards, this time, as the storm struck at rush hour, we more than blinked.

Commutes that typically take up to two barely endurable hours, on Thursday evening stretched from five to 10 hours. Yes, 10. There was a 20 car collision on the westbound side of the George Washington Bridge that took more than 12 hours to untangle. After an hour or two of frustration, sitting stalled in cars, commuters realized they were hopelessly stranded and that they would soon run out of gasoline and as a result would not have heat, they abandoned their cars and did who knows what or went who knows where.

Even in solid-as-a-rock, New York City, even in our shady West Village, half the trees either lost main branches or collapsed entirely under the weight of the ice and snow. There were cars that were abandoned near midnight on our block between Broadway and University Place. Trapped between fallen trees. At least they were only blocks from various subways that thankfully continued to run. If the subways had shut down without notice, I can't begin to imagine what would have happened. Even in the secular Big Apple I suspect that there would have been more than a few conversions to Evangelicalism.

Even if neither coast provided hints of a biblical ending it did offer more than a glimpse of how our country, the world is collapsing under the weight of overpopulation (rarely mentioned as it urgently should be), overconsumption, climate change, and the related collapse of infrastructure. 

Driving from Maine to our city home we got a full taste of the latter. 

I generally hate the FDR Drive which runs north-south along the East River, but because of the aggressive flow of traffic that didn't allow me to shift lanes we wound up swept onto it, forced to go south on the FDR at 125th Street. (Confession--I did not as yet have my NYC driving chops and for the city was driving too passively.) This last few miles took almost an hour of tense stop-and-go driving. Not helped by the lack of lighting in the half dozen tunnels one has to negotiate, not aided by white lines to help keep everyone in lane, and with a road surface that felt it was built and not maintained for a hundred years. Only a modest exaggeration.

"Worse than a third world country, what a way to welcome visitors to the city," I muttered to Rona, with whom, as a result of the driving tension, I was already spatting.

She grumbled something at me and that was our last exchange in 40 minutes of mounting aggravation.

In fact, they have been working on the FDR for almost as long as I have been driving (about 50 years) and rather than things improving the road surface it is getting worse and about to collapse entirely.

Two weeks later (actually, a couple of days after the storm with fallen trees and limbs still not removed from our street), we needed to take the car to the VW mechanic in Brooklyn for its annual inspection and assorted repairs. 

We took the Manhattan Bridge between Manhattan and Brooklyn. As with the FDR, they have been working on the road surface for more than three decades and since traffic was slowed because of volume and potholes, we were able to catch closeup views of the road surface as we inched along. 

It is sad to report that in spite of all those years of effort in many places the potholes are so gouged out that one can see the East River flowing beneath the bridge.

Doing something about infrastructure is more than a subject for political oneupmanship. We will see that aspect of it played out as soon as the Democrats take control of the house. It is more about taking care of some of society's essential assets. What would happen to NYC, for example, to in fact the nation, if both the FDR and Manhattan Bridge collapsed? As I feel certain one day not too far from now they will. What will workers do if their commutes routinely require 4-5 hours each way? When every day is like last Thursday?

Extrapolate this across the country and, what with the incessant fires, perhaps the Preppers have it right and the End is approaching.

May 5, 2015--Brooklyn Battery Tunnel

The traffic was heavy heading out to Brooklyn earlier in the day and now, returning hours later, was still moving at a crawl.

"Let's take the tunnel, "Rona said, "I'm exhausted and the traffic heading to the Manhattan Bridge is stop-and-go."

"But, you know I've become cheap," I said--Rona rolled her eyes, "And the tunnel costs $8.00. So . . ."

"Not if you have E-ZPass. Look at the sign. Then it's only $5.54."

"Still expensive," I said, "But I'm tired too so, OK, let's take it. Let's splurge. Though how they came up with that 54 cents I'll never know."

Ignoring that, Rona said, "Let's try to get into the extreme right lane. We keep forgetting to do that. If we do, we can take Trinity Place north, right onto Sixth Avenue, which is the most direct route to the garage. That way we can avoid the usual snarl on the Westside Highway. And," she added with a wink, "since it's shorter, save money on gas."

"That's how to do it," I pointed.

"Do what?"

"Get into the extreme right lane. There, where the sign says 'All Trucks Use this Lane.'"

"Trucks only?"

"No, look. It doesn't say trucks only which to me means it's also OK for cars. If not, there's no way to get into the tunnel lane we want."

"But why is that policeman waving his arms at us?"

"Strange," I said, "I'm not speeding or anything." I slowed down even more and crept forward toward the stop sign. It was there, another sign said, so that trucks could pull over to be inspected.

"Post-9/11," Rona said. "I get it. But watch out!" She put her hand on my chest as so to restrain me. "That cop just ran onto the road. Right in front of us. up there by the stop sign."

"He looks all agitated," I said, "I have no idea what's going on." I came to a halt well before the stop sign. By then he was racing toward us. It was a warm day and so I thought I'd be nice and creep forward to cut down on the distance he had to run.

"Roll down your window," Rona said, "And be sure to be polite."

"I'm always polite."

"Half the time you're curmudgeony."

Before I could say anything else the officer, panting and sweating, leaned in my window. Holding on to the door as if to support himself.

"Didn't you see that sign?" He was pointing back to where I had entered the extreme righthand lane.

"I did. Is there a problem?" I tried to sound as calm and innocent as possible though, as always in these situations, my heart was racing.

"Didn't you see the sign?" he repeated, this time much louder. Shouting at me.

"If you mean about the trucks, yes I did." Rona placed her hand on my arm since my voice too was raised.

"Well, that was your first violation."

"First violation?" I snapped. Rona whispered to me to calm down.

"It's for trucks, not cars."

"The sign didn't say 'trucks only' and so I thought the lane was for trucks that needed to be inspected and for cars too since there's no other way to get to that righthand unless . . ." I pointed to the tunnel lane we wanted to enter.

"And your second violation," he cut me off, "was that you didn't come to a full stop."

"Full stop?"

"Yeah, here. At this stop sign." He slapped it, right up where I had come to a halt.

"I slowed down to almost a stop, well before the stop sign, when I saw you waving at me. And when you began to run toward us I thought I'd creep forward to the stop sign--the one right here--to make it easier for you."

"License and insurance card." Rona was already fishing for the insurance card in the glove compartment. "And step out of the car please."

"For what?"

"Step out please." His voice turned to ice though his face was beet red and throbbing. Rona poked me in the back. Slowly, with my hands showing, I got out of the car.

"That's a good boy," he said to me with a snarl.

I handed over my driver's license and insurance information. He took his time scrutinizing both, turning them slowly, holding them up to the sunlight, and squinting at them.  "Zwerling, eh? What kind a name is that?"

"It's mine," I said, admittedly with attitude.

Sweat was pouring off him dripping onto the road. Cars were racing by and two trucks by then had come up behind me and the drivers were beginning to tap on their horns. He glared over at them and they stopped.

He finally finished looking over my papers and threw them contemptuously through the window onto the driver's seat. "Get back in the car," he snapped, "and get the fuck outta here." He slapped his hand on the hood.

"Next time--if there is a next time--stay out of my lane or I'll write you so many tickets they'll take away your friggin license. Though how you got one in the first place is a mystery to me. But across the river there in Manhattan I suppose anything goes." He began to sputter and, finally finished with me, swinging his nightstick, started to head toward the first truck in line.

Back in the car, now also sweating, I pulled away at no more than 3 MPH.

As we entered the tunnel in the lane that would let us to Trinity Place, Rona said, "That was unbelievable. And scary. He's so full of rage." She was struggling with her thoughts then said, "Am I ever glad we're not black."