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Taking pictures of your food is so 2011.
My new thing is “pictures of what I already ate.”
This was a dish from Sabor a Colombia in Levittown, NY, consisting of scrambled eggs, onions, tomato, rice, beans and chorizo topped with an amazing, hot salsa, served with the cutest little corn cake and soccer on the tv.
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snowblast on Flickr.
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white out on Flickr.
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snowed in on Flickr.
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407 on Flickr.
407. 7am.
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too soon | large
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i’ve had enough | large
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Six hours later, Todd made it to the gas pumps.
Six. Hours.
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Anarchy in the L.I.
It’s crazy times out there, kids. The long, long gas lines - some stretch more than two miles - are made up of frustrated, impatient people. Some of them are even angry.
I drove up to the line Todd was idling in - at this point it stretched back over a mile - to give him a phone charger. He had been in that line since 2:30. It was 6:00. He had only made it halfway to the gas station. Most cars were turned off as they waited for the line to move. Some people got out of their cars to smoke, stretch legs….and yell like lunatics about the gas lines.
There was one guy telling people they were on the wrong line and a woman telling people there were two lines; one for the gas station about 1/4 mile up and one for a gas station that doesn’t exist. They were walking from car to car, sticking their heads in windows, yelling at people. Yelling about everything.
Up at the gas station, two lines of cars tried to converge into one. Two pumps were reserved for walk-ups, people with gas cans filling up for their generators. There were about 100 people pushing up against each other. If the line wouldn’t move on its own, it would move with physical force.
There was not a single police car there. Not a state trooper. No authoritative presence at all.
There really should be. At every gas station.
Because you get idiots like the yelling guy giving people wrong information, riling people up, making already agitated people even more agitated. You have two lanes of gas lines taking up both lanes meant for traffic so you have people just trying to get home leaning on their horns, wedging themselves into the line, thinking it’s just traffic and, well, it’s a mess. And it’s dangerous.
I have less than a quarter tank. I’m just not going to go anywhere until this is all over. I don’t want to wait on these lines. I don’t want to deal with this anarchy. I don’t want to be anywhere there are angry people who have been sitting in their dark, cold houses for four days waiting for lights to go on, people who have just been through a hurricane and are at an emotional level that can only be described as combustible.
It’s ugly out there. And scary.
I’m just going to hole up in my dark house until I stop feeling like something is about to blow. Besides a hurricane.
I want my normal life back.
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That’s not traffic. That’s a gas line. Stretches over a mile.
