Evacuate? No way, man! NYC parties through the storm

Despite doomy predictions of flooding and mass blackouts, most of Manhattan awoke yesterday to a bit of rain and stronger than usual breezes.

But the city was transformed nonetheless. A usually bustling place even in the early hours, much of New York resembled a ghost town by mid-morning, with just the occasional Pac-a-mac-wearing, umbrella-battling pedestrian braving the elements.

In the days leading up to Hurricane Irene hitting, rolling news coverage projected models of the city showing widespread flooding in downtown Manhattan and parts of Brooklyn.

Mayor Michael Bloomberg – conscious of the criticism he received for his response to heavy snowfall earlier this year – ordered the evacuation of people on vulnerable low-lying land.

It brought to the city a newly named district – Zone A, an area from which all residents were expected to leave.

It meant that about 370,000 people living in at-threat properties were in need of new digs.

Their plight was hampered by the closure of the city’s transit system – subway entrances were cordoned off from midday on Saturday.

Flights had already been cancelled as the transport system ground to a halt and tourists were forced to prolong their stay in the city.

Unfortunately for them, most restaurants, shops and Broadway shows that could be enjoyed on a Saturday night had shut up shop, as their employees would have had no means to get home.

Not that many people were in the mood to go out in any case. Supermarket check-out queues snaked through the aisles as New Yorkers used the final few hours before the city ground to a halt to stock up on supplies for a night in.

Moreover, people were eager to ensure their drinks cabinet was stocked for the weekend.

“Everyone’s just been asking for beer,” said Mohammad Alkob, owner of a bodega in Manhattan’s Murray Hill district. It was a similar story at nearby off-licence Wine Heaven. Throughout Saturday the booze seller did a roaring trade as people bought enough alcohol to get them through Sunday.

And as the storm approached, social media was abuzz with news of “hurricane parties” – a very New York way to mark the passing through of Irene.

“Must stock up with vodka and booze – evacuate, my a**! Good excuse for a party” was typical of the upbeat messages left by friends on Facebook.

The only messages of concern came from friends and relatives overseas, who had watched with increasing alarm as the hurricane made its way to New York.

One family member from the Philippines called to ensure we were safe, even though the south-east Asian country was itself suffering from a typhoon.

But as it was, Irene had lost much of her bluster by the time she reached the city, being downgraded to a tropical storm.

And by the time most Manhattanites had awoken – many with sore heads – even the rain and wind had stopped.

At its worst, gusts of about 30mph or 40mph were recorded in the city. As the morning progressed even the rain stopped, being replaced by the odd bit of sunlight, as if to mock the doomsayers.

Some damage was reported by overnight winds. At least one tree came down in lower Manhattan, damaging a shop front. More fallen trees were reported in Central Park.

And limited flooding was seen in Battery Park, on the tip of the island. Meanwhile tunnels to the city were closed out of concern of rising rainwater.

But threats of widespread damage never materialised in New York City. And it was a far cry from the destruction caused to North Carolina and Virginia by Irene, where falling trees killed several people.

Having predicted far worse, cable news channels were left trying to explain to relieved residents in New York how the city had escaped largely unscathed.

TV news reporters tried their best. Clad in heavy waterproofs they gripped their microphones as they trudged lower Manhattan looking for damage.

Cameramen helped with the occasional shaky shot to emphasise the strength of the winds.

Their work was undermined somewhat by the occasional appearance of residents behind them, dressed in shorts and flip-flops, their baseball caps still in place despite the breeze.

Meanwhile, evacuated residents at Baruch College remained in good spirits. About 200 people had been holed up in the makeshift shelter, some for two nights.

Orlando White moved in on Friday after leaving his base in the Chelsea Projects.

“People are good, it’s relaxed in the shelter,” the 45-year-old said. “They’ve got showers, food – but it ain’t good food, I’m not going to lie about that.”

He was more upbeat than taxi driver Modupe Oladapo, who had been forced out on to the streets by his cab firm. “I don’t want to be out here, but the company said I had to,” he grumbled.

The Nigerian-born New Yorker added: “Look at the streets – empty. I’d rather be at home with my family.”

As the day progressed, more and more people started emerging on to the streets, defying calls from authorities to stay at home.

What they encountered was pretty much what they had left some 24 hours earlier. New York had managed to party its way through its hurricane warning with aplomb.