Storm 12, tomorrow
Landlord and I are standing on the stoop. "Upper East Side Not Plowed -- DiBlasio Retaliation Alleged." When was our street plowed? NEVER. What's our street like now? 4-6 inches of snow, with half-assed skid ruts.
Three Con Ed guys standing around a manhole. Ahh, shit. I did see that. I saw them working at three in the morning when I got home. Not a lot of manhole work at 3 AM, should've remembered that. I am outside with the landlord because half our apartment has no power.
One guy's securing a two-handled device in place like a jackhammer. There is no sound. I have never seen this device before. WHOOMPGH there is a sound.
Dark green smoke pours out of the manhole like the Joker's attacked Gotham City. I keep looking. The smoke remains green. Never seen that. Con Ed guys. Hardhats, good. Not management. All three are not running away simultaneously. OK.
"Dey say de transformer's blown. Entire transformer!," says landlord.
"Yeah, see that stupid trench?" There are two of them, one on each side of the street in the middle of the sidewalk. Each one starts out like someone gave a shit about the job. New asphalt is flat. Twenty feet of that, remaining sixty feet, both sides is nothing but a heap of oily black rocks pretending to be asphalt. No fun, trying to walk on that but buried under the snow, anyone could break something. Good luck wheeling anything over it such as your kid in a stroller. "The gas company dug that what, last summer? Six months, they just LEFT it?"
"Six months? Nine months!," says landlord. He is correct. "How many times I call, 311, gas company, city, city won't do it! No money! But the taxes, twelve hundred dollars ..." I tune him out at this point because mysteriously every conversation with this guy winds up a discussion of the operating costs of the building which continue to increase.
"--haven't done SHIT so old people and little kids can keep breaking their necks on it. What's a new trench? New leaks! Leaks in new places DUHHHH!"
Con Ed team smirks. All three guys. I fixed burglar alarms for 12 weeks during a Verizon strike. I know holes. Work for the guys! Ice, snow, salt: ZAPPP electrocuted dog. KRNNSHCK ahh my LEG! SKRRHZHCHCH new bumper time, happy sounds of winter. So many fuckups in New York are planned, just about.
Three Con Ed guys standing around a manhole. Ahh, shit. I did see that. I saw them working at three in the morning when I got home. Not a lot of manhole work at 3 AM, should've remembered that. I am outside with the landlord because half our apartment has no power.
One guy's securing a two-handled device in place like a jackhammer. There is no sound. I have never seen this device before. WHOOMPGH there is a sound.
Dark green smoke pours out of the manhole like the Joker's attacked Gotham City. I keep looking. The smoke remains green. Never seen that. Con Ed guys. Hardhats, good. Not management. All three are not running away simultaneously. OK.
"Dey say de transformer's blown. Entire transformer!," says landlord.
"Yeah, see that stupid trench?" There are two of them, one on each side of the street in the middle of the sidewalk. Each one starts out like someone gave a shit about the job. New asphalt is flat. Twenty feet of that, remaining sixty feet, both sides is nothing but a heap of oily black rocks pretending to be asphalt. No fun, trying to walk on that but buried under the snow, anyone could break something. Good luck wheeling anything over it such as your kid in a stroller. "The gas company dug that what, last summer? Six months, they just LEFT it?"
"Six months? Nine months!," says landlord. He is correct. "How many times I call, 311, gas company, city, city won't do it! No money! But the taxes, twelve hundred dollars ..." I tune him out at this point because mysteriously every conversation with this guy winds up a discussion of the operating costs of the building which continue to increase.
"--haven't done SHIT so old people and little kids can keep breaking their necks on it. What's a new trench? New leaks! Leaks in new places DUHHHH!"
Con Ed team smirks. All three guys. I fixed burglar alarms for 12 weeks during a Verizon strike. I know holes. Work for the guys! Ice, snow, salt: ZAPPP electrocuted dog. KRNNSHCK ahh my LEG! SKRRHZHCHCH new bumper time, happy sounds of winter. So many fuckups in New York are planned, just about.