Metropolitan Diary: Overheard in Hurricane Sandy's Wake If you had walked through Midtown Manhattan, up Fifth Avenue, and through the theater district on Thursday, Nov. 1, you might have thought that nothing big had happened in the city. Stores were open, with the Halloween decorations being taken down and the Christmas ones being put up. The sidewalks were fairly full of pedestrians, with tourists perched like anxious birds on the curbs, waiting for the lights to change, and New Yorkers charging right across the streets. In the evening, the lights of Times Square were as bright as usual, and the usual throng of Elmos and Hello Kittys were out. However, with closer observation you noticed that something was amiss. The streets and sidewalks were definitely less crowded than one would expect, and as you crossed a street you were as likely to have to dodge a bicycle as a car. Then you noticed that there were blocks with no lights at all, the stores gray and dark. Finally, you realized that those unavoidably overheard bits of conversation people shout into their cellphones were all on one topic: Tell her she has a place to crash uptown if she needs it. The servers are all flooded, so, no, I'm not at work. Then we had no water. I've been staying at my friend's all week. Because I have no power. "So I heated some water on the stove and had a proper bath," said the beautifully dressed woman with a very refined accent. One can flush the toilet with dirty water. So I'm all right. Ah, New York.