Hurricane Harriet

By: Harriet Cohen          

a very short story based on actual events that took place in New York City in September 1999.

We waited with anticipation as the beast grew closer. This 600 mile wide, 150 mile per hour monster with one eye that flattened homes in the Caribbean and pelted its fury up the east coast.  

My mind flashed to a post-hurricane memory on Kew Forest Lane of an old curbside Oak that snapped under the pressure and lay symmetrically across the roofs of two cars. Touching down on both sides of the street, the tree came in for a perfect landing.  Gloria's fete' caught a neighboring bark baron off guard in the torrent as well and, losing its footing, landed with one bent elbow through the pane of a second floor structure.  How natural he looked merely resting there for just a moment to catch his breath. 

I listened with unwaivered interest as a weather anchor announced school closings.  First New Jersey, then New York.  I didn't twitch a muscle hoping they'd move on to corporations. . . "Goldstein, Block, Hardy & Payne, LLP Naaahhht Ooooperaaaaatinnnng Todaaaaay . . . "

Yeah right!  Fantasy quickly turned into reality as I lumbered out of my building ready to face yet another adventure underground.  There already had been more than one raindrop so the chances of arriving on time were slim. Will my train be the first one blocked by a stalled train in front of us? Will nature turn a perfectly productive day on the internet, junk-fooding-it and watching Oprah, into a wild panic trying to get to the office on time only to be turned back by upper management? 

I spent my morning faxing futile letters to empty offices and packing
messengered envelopes that would arrive faster being mailed by civil men. 

Noontime was another rush hour as we nervously watched a hardy stream gush in between the tracks of a Queens bound platform.  I let a feisty commuter take over my usual role as outspoken passenger urging riders to tighten up the ranks so more can get on.  (Hey, if I don't get on she's not getting on. . .)

A gentle request of removing umbrella ribs from butt-piercing annoyance
to "whomever" was in back of me was greeted with empathetic giggles as we
waited to see what was going to happen next....  The Train Ride, Part II (the
sequel)! 

I went into survival mode as I scurried to my local market before the rains
came. The black cloud now bulging low, looked like it was crossing Grand
Avenue in Elmhurst at a fast clip.  I calculated that I had about 17 minutes to grab all the necessities. What will I do if I run out of cream cheese or O.J.? 

Picking up little things to make my afternoon a bit more comfortable, I pictured myself snuggled down, getting a psycho lesson from the "Guru du jour."

Daylight mistook the storm for night.