Last night about 10 o’clock, there was a huge explosion in my Woodrow-area neighborhood. Bam, the lights go out for blocks. My neighbors and I wandered outside and wondered what happened. “You think it was lightening?”” one asked. “Probably a transformer blew,” I said. Just then, the night sky lit up with sparks, and a horrible cracking sound blasted through our ears. (Sounded just like this: KABOOMAPOWBAMOT’PAU!) There went a second transformer. We gathered on the corner with candles and red wine, watching the firetrucks roll through the neighborhood. Within an hour, the power was back on.
I tell you this to prepare you for similar instances today, as the area’s power demands are expected to exceed 65,669 megawatts. Think about THAT for a moment. Yeah. I know.
Meanwhile, I’m to go to lunch in air-conditioned comfort with Christine Allison, the President of D Magazine Partners Empire. A sneak preview of MY power demands: complete authority over all parking decisions, a “computer” at my desk, and my own personal coffee wench.