Many of the buildings down by the intersection of Water Street and Adams Street had placed sandbags or bales of hay in front of their doors to keep water from pouring in. Local businesses, like AEGIR Boardworks, took it all in stride, placing humorous signs on their front doors to signal closures. "Closed due to: Apocalypse, Zombies, Republicans, A Little Rain" read one.

The wind began to thrash us around as The Observer walked down along the perimeter of Brooklyn Bridge Park, which the city ordered closed at 5 p.m. The East River looked gray and angry, lapping up against the jagged rocks that separate it from the path that cuts through the park. The only other people out on the street were other curious observers, donning parkas though the rain hadn't begun yet.

In Peas and Pickles, a local market on Front Street, the shelves appeared ransacked: most canned goods were gone, though strangely there was a lot more beer left than we'd imagined. The line extended 15-people deep as shoppers cradled bottled water, boxes of cereal and ready-made deli meals.

As the wind grew sharper, we decided to head back home. The streets were eerily empty, except for a few neighbors scurrying back into their buildings with bags overflowing with groceries.