Stormapalooza. 10:15am.

We spent a nice country weekend in Hillsdale, NY (post to come later) and had no cable or internet. So although we knew about the impending Stormapalooza, we were a little surprised on the car ride home to get a call from a friend regarding a mandatory evacuation order for certain areas of the city. That phone call transformed our previously sleepy ride and we immediately started calling around to see who was doing what and whether or not “mandatory evacuation” was in fact sort of optional. (“No, dumb ass, it is not optional,” said the internet.) Turns out, we live on a modest hill half a block from Flood Zone A, which is Bloomberg’s mandatory evacuation area. Super news. So we decided since we were already in the car to just keep driving somewhere where perhaps there’d be less of a chance of washing away. Consequently, I’m posting dispatches from the relative pine barrens safety of my in-laws home in Medford, New Jersey. Since I’m south of you here, I’ll be able to alert you to Sandy’s approach two hours before she reaches you in Manhattan. Just think of me as your meteorological Paul Revere. (Or not.)

 

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We earn our living selling New York City. The next day is never like the last. The last is never ordinary. We witness all sorts. We listen to the City’s noise. We devour its phenomenal food. On the Real is our documentary. It is your pack of unfiltered New York 100s.