|Words and photo by F LoBuono|
And, then, it fizzled. The storm stayed further out to sea, slamming New England with copious amounts of the white stuff while sparring New York almost entirely. But, the damage was already done - as a precaution, an emergency was declared and the City was closed. And I loved it! The world's most frenetic city took on a completely different pace. The streets, normally clogged with traffic, were so empty one could walk freely down the middle. And, it was quiet - almost eerily so. The only sounds heard were the howling of the wind, the occasional siren, and the plows clearing whatever snow there was off the streets.
There is an inexorable force to the streets of New York. Walking can feel like being on a conveyor belt. It's as if an invisible power is carrying you along. It simply cannot be resisted. However, on days (or nights) after a blizzard, even one that wasn't, the streets of the world's greatest city are YOURS. You set the pace. You are a Prince of the City. It's as if this whole, huge, bustling metropolis exists solely for you. Tarry if you like and think that Manhattan, this mad Manhattan that we've come to know, was once a wild and isolated island.
The calm AFTER the storm didn't last long. It never does - even when there is a real blizzard - and this one was far from the Snowmaggedon predicted. Like a giant centipede that was knocked on its back, the City eventually righted itself and got back in gear - running on hundreds of legs. It was back to business in, well, a New York minute. But, it sure was nice while it lasted.