Hurricane Hedonism

It was just about 3PM and I was already eyeing that bottle of Pinot Noir.

In case you haven’t heard, Hurricane Sandy (er Frankenstorm) is coming to town and we’re battening down the hatches.

Which means in NYC we’re freaking out, because we don’t do nature that well.  Like that time we got snow the day after Christmas in 2010.

Freaking out in my neighborhood looks just like it did last year during Hurricane Irene.  Here’s a sampling of what yesterday was like:

  • The shelves at Fairway were empty, Trader Joes was a mosh pit and there as a  LINE to get into West Side Market and Food Emporium (no one shops at Food Emporium).  Frankly, I’m not that worried the food situation.  I’m comforted to know we have a lifetimes supply of Kashi Golean, soup and peanut butter to eat before we resort to cannibalism.
  • Sorbet, cheese, olives, water and Pelligrino were gone.  But the weirdest thing is that in a city where carbs and dairy are largely viewed as untouchables, what did I see in the bulging bags of my neighbors?  Bread and milk.  Because I guess even if you’re a raw food vegan, it’s good to know you have choices in the event the hurricane washes away wonder.
  • The gym was packed with people getting in their pre-apocalyptic workouts in.   I totally get it; we all know we’ll be sitting around in our sweats eating and drinking for the next few days, so might as well feel like we’ve earned it.
  • Yesterday, there was a line of Chinese food delivery guys 10 deep at the front desk.  We panic at the thought of not being able pick of the phone and get pizza or a burrito so do it now before the world ends.
  • All the good stuff is wiped out at the wine and liquor stores.  They make a killing.  In an act of end of the world desperation, I found myself parting with way too much money for a few bottles of pinot because I don’t want to be recalling boxed wine as I retell the story of the Great Hurricane to my grandchildren.
  • And then the Facebook food posts start.  Since the schools, public transit and most offices are closed, everyone is at home. Cooking.  There’s my “friend” Simon who Instagrammed his anti-pasta platter complete with 5 different Italian hams and 6 cheese.  Grace, who made seafood strudel, Claudia who recreated the Freedom Tower out of fondant, and Frank who claims to have roasted a baby pig.

I don’t want to make light of a storm that will surely cause a lot of damage.  And we’re in hurricane zone B, which means we get a front row seat to Mother Nature’s drama, but don’t necessarily need to evacuate (just yet).

But honestly, for the majority of my Upper West side neighbors, it’s really an excuse to sit home in your sweats and indulge.

And with the bridges, tunnels schools, subways and office buildings shut down for the next two days, we have no other choice but to be lazy hedonists.

And I’m not knocking it. I’m all in.

Sure, I’d like to think that with a 48 hall pass I would be productive and organize the scary area under the sink, write much delayed thank you notes and play board games instead of resorting to TV and tech.

Instead, it’s 5:00 and my family is already on what I think what Taco Bell calls 4th meal.  I opened the wine at 3:30 and started off the day with breakfast potatoes cooked in duck fat and a batch of brownies that my son convinced me was appropriate “under the circumstances”.

Miles Davis is playing in the background, and we’re all slothing around in some form of sweat shirt material cum pajamas doing our own thing.  My son is attached to FIFA 13 on the iPad, my husband is glued to his Kindle while I try to whiten a friend’s teeth on Photoshop.

But I’m sure that after 6th meal (spaghetti bolongase), around 8:00, the board games by candlelight will begin because that’s when the lights and wireless are supposed to go down.

The winds are getting pretty nasty now, and the electricity is actually flickering.  I have to make 6th meal before my appliances go, so happy hurricane to all.

Carpe Diem!

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