August 15, 2003
Power to the Flatiron Building went poof at 4:09 yesterday. We wound up walking home, hiking out of Manhattan in the 90-degree heat in the company of thousands of others. As luck would have it, my brother Benjamin from Portland, Oregon has been in northern New Jersey on a job for several days, and he was scheduled to drive his rented van over to Brooklyn and stay with us last night. He made it, a couple of hours late, and we wandered the pitch-dark streets of Park Slope in search of food and drink. We finally found a take-out Chinese place on Flatbush that was cooking in the dark over gas—one person would cook while the other held a flashlight over his head, looking for all the world, as Teresa observed, like Mad Max Does Chinese.
Laden with take-out containers of black-bean chicken and orange-flavor beef, we trudged home home, grabbed bowls and cutlery out of our dark apartment, and sat in Benjamin’s blessedly air-conditioned van, eating Chinese food and listening to blackout updates on 1010 WIN (“You Give Us 22 Minutes, We Give You the World”). The rich full life. [09:04 AM]