Now about thirty firemen milling in clusters in front of my building with hatchets, five hook and ladders stretching down the block. (I'm near Lincoln Center, on the Upper West Side.)
They say a transformer blew, under the street one building over from me. It's still on fire.
I climbed out onto the fire escape outside my window for the shots from above. I love my iPhone camera, but it's not much good at the wide shots. I couldn't get much of the action in a single shot. (Could also be user error. Haha.)
I was about to leave 30 minutes ago for some groceries, and I really need some. Hopefully the building will still be here when I get back.
(I'll let you know. Haha. I don't actually expect anything to happen. I imagine they would evacuate us, and this probably happens all the time. No? My electricity is still on. That's pretty cool.)
Did I mention I love NYC?
3:45 p.m. Update:
I got back with the groceries and the building is still here. There are far fewer trucks and men, but a new hole in the ground. And it reeks to high hell of sulfur.
(Is that the expression? Why is hell high?)
And I can make a sandwich. (There was a run on bread mid-week, in anticipation of the imaginary storm. Trader Joe's had some again. And we only got a couple inches of snow.)
It's been going on for about five hours now. A new team just pulled up. They said it's still burning. They looked slightly annoyed.
Here they are conferring, five minutes ago:
Damn, that's a crappy photo. Sorry.
Update 12:20 a.m.
Now they're jackhammering. Ugh. (Or some kind of furious pumping, maybe? It sounds like a jackhammer. And that loud.)
I hope it doesn't go all night. My bedroom faces the street.
I guess if there's a fire under my street, they have to do what they have to do. I just hope they don't have to much longer.