Exposing their feelings: Rockaway residents not into nudity

Reeling from nude sunbathers who assault both their eyes and their standards of decency, Rockaway residents are begging for a large fence to shield them from an adjacent nudist beach.

Hurricane Irene destroyed the fence that once served as a barrier between the bare-naked beach bums at Riis Park and the more conservative bathers at Neponsit, who are none too fond of the breast-barers frolicking nearby.

“The city needs to put the fence back up, plain and simple,” City Councilman Eric Ulrich (R-Queens) told the New York Daily News. “This is about protecting families and children. This is about protecting the community. This is about protecting decency.”

But despite Mr. Ulrich's heroic stand to safeguard modesty, city officials are hesitant to restore a fence, citing a law that requires “undivided public access to beaches below the high tide line,” the Daily News reports.

Those in favor of a fenceless beach (and bare bums) argue that a barrier would impede on the beauty of the beach. They also challenge rumors that bathers at Riis Park are having sex on the beach, claiming that those on the Neponsit side are the ones guilty of “lewd” acts, like sneaking a peek at the nude sunbathers.

While we imagine the disagreement may lead to some awkward confrontations between the opposing parties in the coming months, at least there's little chance of the conflict turning physical.

sgrothjan@observer.com

Their suffering and losses come after earlier floods ruined homes and businesses in the North Country beyond Albany in the days just after Irene passed through.

The summer of 2011 has been a disaster for upstate. But, truth be told, the weather is only the latest catastrophe to visit the region. Quietly but relentlessly, upstate New York has receded into a seemingly permanent recession. From Albany to Buffalo, Newburgh to Plattsburgh, along the Great Lakes and the great rivers, upstaters have watched helplessly as old industries have collapsed, plants have closed, and even reliable companies like Carrier and General Electric have fallen on hard times.

A succession of governors promised to reverse this disturbing trend, but the silent downtowns of Buffalo, Syracuse and Albany itself speak to broken promises and unrealized dreams. Those of us who rarely venture north of the Westchester-Putnam border would be shocked to see the extent of upstate’s economic decline.

Ironically, however, this year’s storms may have helped generate needed attention from downstaters and a welcome commitment from Gov. Andrew Cuomo. Mr. Cuomo, who has spent a good portion of his life upstate, appears to appreciate the plight of the old cities, towns and hamlets there as few of his immediate predecessors have. He has been a constant presence during the upstate flooding, and he took special care to dispatch National Guard troops to the region in the run-up to Irene.

Upstate has felt neglected for decades, with some justification. Top state offices have been dominated by downstaters who might have had a hard time finding Binghamton on a map before their elections. Mr. Cuomo has a chance to call attention to the plight of upstaters who have suffered through a generation of job losses and lethargic attempts at revival.

The storms were a catastrophe. But if upstate finally has caught the attention of decision-makers, assistance may, at last, be on the way.

That ought to do it. (Mayor's Office)

With Hurricane Irene still affecting New York—clean-up continues, the sun is only now shining, the Hudson runs red with upstate clay—the city is making preparations and procedural changes to prepare for the next disaster. Yet with evacuations being one of the biggest effects of the storm, so far no action has been taken to address neighborhoods in low-lying areas, the now-well-known Zone As of the city.

At yesterday's World Trade Center progress press conference, with no real news about progress at the site—it was more of an update for the media outlets of the world that are only now tuning in and have not been obsessing over ground zero for the past decade—The Observer asked the mayor if any changes would be made to the waterfront redevelopment plans his administration has led, which have revitalized these areas but have also put them in harm's way. (The Village Voice dedicated its cover to the irony of building in flood-prone areas four years ago.)

In a word, no. "It’s the waterfront that makes this city," Mayor Bloomberg said. "You may have to, if you think about it, build a little higher, but if the oceans do rise, as many climatologists predict, you may have to raise the barriers around buildings or the coast lines."

It sounds as though that responsibility lies with the developers who are building in these areas more than with the city. In a follow-up, spokesman Andrew Brent acknowledged that "no plans for walls"  or other construction or development mandates have been discussed since the hurricane.

That said, the city has already undertaken Vision 2020, a comprehensive plan launched this year that looks at ways to further develop the residential, industrial and ecological waterfront across the city. "Vision 2020," Mr. Brent wrote in an email, "outlines steps that can be taken to help build long term resilience, including developing a better understanding of areas that will be at risk of flooding and storm surge in the future."

Among the efforts being undertaken are wetland restoration and protection, as these areas serve as natural buffers from storms; exploring zoning and building code changes that would indeed require developers to be more responsive to flood and sea-change risks; updating evacuation maps; and partnering with FEMA on flood insurance.

Such measures would go some way toward protecting an area like Battery Park City, which the mayor used as an example. "Battery Park City was not evacuated because there was a threat to people living in the buildings, it was evacuated because if, in an emergency, you had to get a doctor, ambulance, a firefighter there, or a cop, they would not have been able to go there through the water," he said.

The mayor, who invoked global warming in his press conference the day after the storm, seems to believe that the potential for a future disaster is there, and even if it is not, why risk it.  "Even if it’s not global warming but normal cycles and weather patterns, there’s an awful lot of evidence, whether it’s draught or flood or winds or things, that something’s going on," Mayor Bloomberg said. "Even if you don’t believe it, common sense just says, ‘Hey, supposing I’m wrong, and the scientists are right, irreversible things are taking place, and so we don’t want to do that.'"

The only thing is, while the mayor may be worried about these problems, his administration is not pitching any new solutions.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

resident Barack Obama and New Jersey Governor Chris Christie -- Strange bedfellows.

Hurricane Irene played matchmaker for the political odd couple of President Obama and New Jersey Governor Chris Christie. The potential 2012 rivals are unlikely allies in the debate over hurricane relief and they're spending an awkward afternoon together tomorrow touring flood damage in Paterson.

Despite his repeated denials, Christie is viewed by many insiders as a possible opponent for the President's re-election bid. Those who see Christie as a Republican challenger for Obama reportedly include some of the President's own campaign advisors. In late May, Obama operatives began "digging for dirt" on Christie in case the Garden State Governor decides to run, according to the New York Post.

Christie has emerged as rising star on the right since he became the first Republican elected to statewide office in New Jersey for over a decade in 2009. He's known for tough rhetoric and a strong opposition to tax increases. Christie's admirers include Speaker of the House John Boehner, Henry Kissinger and Fox News Channel boss Roger Ailes. In late July, Christie sharply criticized Obama's handling of the debt ceiling debate.

"He has to put his plan in writing and show it to people. ... You can't lead from behind," Christie said.

Now, thanks to Irene, Obama and Christie find themselves thrust together. In the wake of last week's storm, Obama clashed with Republicans led by House Majority Leader Eric Cantor, who say disaster relief must be offset by other spending cuts. Obama found an ally in Christie who came out against Cantor's demand for offsets last week.

"I don’t want to hear about the fact that offsetting budget cuts have to come first before New Jersey citizens are taken care of. ... We need the support now here in New Jersey, and that’s not a Republican or a Democratic issue,” Christie said.

Christie is parting ways with his fellow fiscal conservatives because he wants fast federal aid from Obama due to New Jersey's estimated $2.1 billion in losses due to Irene. His quest for cash means the storm winds brought bromance in the air for Obama's Jersey visit tomorrow. On Tuesday, Christie discussed the warm reception he's planning to give Obama during the President's approximately three hour tour of Paterson tomorrow.

“These storms are not Republican or Democratic storms and we don’t have a Republican or Democratic president -- we have one president at the time ... and I will be there on behalf of the people of New Jersey to welcome the president," Christie said.

Wouldn't a 'We Met At The Evacuation Center' story be great to tell your kids? 'Just met at SoHo Evacuation Center' indeed:

I realize you'll never see this but I don't care because being a fucking romantic is my thing especially during hurricane evacuations. You're the most amazing girl I've ever seen. You told me I had beautiful eyes, strange place to flirt, but who gives a fucker. If we get out of this alive I will remember the tears we shared, clutching our chunks of Government cheese snacks they just gave us to nourish our bones. Don't be scared, I'm with you, always.

Chelsea's gay pickup scene never sleeps. This guy clearly missed the opportunity to get himself some Hurricane Lovin':

Guy in yellow tank top, you told me I was cute during the hurricane supermarket sweep at Gristedes on 8th avenue.

I really wish I'd returned the favour.

Flatbush feared the worse, and hoped for the best:

We were shopping at the grocery store (I can't remember it's name) by the parkside ave Q station. You gave my hurricane preparedness advice, I gave you beer advice. We should grab a drink if we all survive this thing.

The totally Frat-Tastic scene on the Upper East Side went for the double-score. Note the typos:

We where two girls having a pre apocalyptic meal at the Ritz Diner on 62nd and 1st last evening around 4. You guys where sitting behind us and to the left. We where deep in conversation and didn't get a chance to say hi. One of you had a Alpha Phi jersey type shirt on. We noticed you looking at us..

Weather-Related adultery? You betcha:

So, about this hurricane.

You missed...
1. the earthquake but came back just in time to sit on the train next to me ---err the hurricane (minor difference).
2. your stop on the way to Trader Joe's in Chelsea (who needs food? on second thought, we should share what you bought)
3. getting my name, number, place of birth, social security number, etc.

You didn't miss...
1. the opportunity to ask if I'd be spending the weekend with my boyfriend (my answer: you were out of town, but now that you're back, the jury's out)
2. something that drove me to write this post
3. the chance to tell me you liked my shoes. twice. (thank you)

If you haven't died waiting in line at TJ's, you should get online to craigslist missed connections (oh hi) and read this and then email me so we can go out on a REALLY fun date.

Not sure what 'REALLY' implies there but someone should definitely find out. And finally, there's just the Hurricane Missed Connection of the Patently Adorable And Sincere Stripe. Man Of Mystery, you already make this woman smile(y emoticons)! Go get her, and bond over other gross smells:

We met at C Town around 6pm last night before this hurricane hit us!! I was walking down the meat aisle and was disgusted with the smell - you agreed. We had some small talk and your smile was so cute. Well, you were really cute....... we exchanged many glances and I went back to look for you but my room mate pushed me out of the store!! I hope you had a great night -- our plans were pretty much the same so hope you had some fun :)

Anyway.... if you read this - send me a message of what I was wearing..... hope to hear from you :)

Here's hoping your memory is photographic. New York City: the only place where the overwrought fear of every Michael Bay-esque disaster imaginable is an unprecedented chance to get laid or find true love. Here's hoping someone did.

fkamer@observer.com | @weareyoufek

Get me my galoshes! (Getty)

With all the angst and frustration over Hurricane Irene, the city actually got off pretty good. At ground zero, precautions to protect the 9/11 memorial actually helped prepare the site for its opening in just over a week. But as Port Authority executive director and big man downtown Chris Ward told the audience at a New York Building Congress forum today, we were inches away from disaster.

"Thank god Irene didn't come over the sea wall at Battery Park City," the avowed atheist said. "I was down there at 2 A.M. watching the waters lap at the sea wall, and if the surge had come up over the Battery, across West Street and on to the site, it would have been an enormous amount of flooding. It could have been devastating. The waves were lapping right at the edge of the sea wall and going in about two or three feet, and there was a moment of, 'just stay there.' And it did, and we're very lucky."

Mr. Ward was the keynote speaker at the forum, which was held to introduce a new report highlighting the importance of public investment in infrastructure. Mr. Ward gave an animated speech that bordered on the political at times—more on that tomorrow—but his remarks about Irene were notable for the disaster averted.

"Like Satchel Page said, I'd rather be lucky than good," Mr. Ward added in his gravelly voice. We're pretty sure he thinks he's good, too.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

This sucks. (Getty)

When Hurricane Irene finally blew through the city Sunday morning as a mere tropical storm, many New Yorkers were left disappointed. No, not primarily because of the inconvenience of suspended Subway service, the annoyance of a flooded basement or the over zealousness of a few public officials, though there was plenty of that, too. No, these New Yorkers were angry at Mother Nature for not putting up more of a fight.

“I have to say, if we’re going to be stuck inside for 48 hours, I was hoping for at least more excitement,” Carly Frasier Doria said yesterday afternoon, the sun shining from the clear blue sky as she was returning from a Starbucks run at 43rd and Sixth, Frappuccino in hand. “It’s good nobody got killed, I guess. But a little more excitement would have been good. Not so much that anyone died, but enough to keep things interesting.”

“The worst part was that they shut the subways down,” her coworker Emily Turner said, sipping on a grande. “Even though it was boring, there was nothing to do. You couldn’t go visit your friends.”

“All the bars in Dumbo were closed,” corrected Ms. Frasier Doria. “That was the worst part. I really needed a cocktail. And the next morning, there was no coffee.”

Irene was no hurricane. It wasn't even a tropical storm, it turns out. It was a case of tropical depression.

It was something The Observer began to hear Sunday morning, before the storm had even entirely cleared. We'd woken up with a twinge of it ourselves, having (for the most part) slept through the worst of the storm, cooped up in our apartments with ample supplies of candles and tuna fish. The one upside is the liquor cabinet is now more fully stocked.

Joe Ammon lives on Clay Street in Greenpoint. “We are across the street from Zone A, but we weren't as concerned about Newton Creek jumping it's banks as we would've been if we were in the Rockaways,” he told The Observer in an email. “We did the most basic preparation. Stocked a bit on food (and beer/wine), bottled water, batteries for flashlight and radio.

“I definitely figured I had more time than the city was giving me to make a decision whether or not to evacuate—but then again, I'm a 26 year old single guy, and I can pack up and leave in half a minute,” Mr. Ammon continued. “I guess I'm disappointed I didn't live through a hurricane, but I'm also a little relieved that the city seems to have a plan for these kinds of emergencies.”

Jen Chu actually thought the storm was a missed opportunity for New York. “I think the idea of some kind of a disaster brings people together and gives us a way to relate to each other,” she said. “Events like this create dialogue between strangers which is exciting and refreshing so in that sense, everyone wanted to be a part of the hype.”

While a more severe storm posed a certain threat, there was really only two things Ms. Chu was worried about. “I wanted to witness it, but I live in a 115 year old building so the practical part of me knew that I would most likely have to deal with roof leaks,” she said. “And let's be honest, everyone wanted the hurricane to hit hard—as long as the Internet stayed on. What would we do if we were cooped inside without Netflix or Twiiter?”

Rami Metal, a community liaison for City Councilman Stephen Levin (almost all of whose Greenpoint-to-Brooklyn-Heights district was in Zone A), echoed the digirati's concerns. "I think most people had some fun with it and in retrospect some of the prep seems a bit overkill, but I don't really think that people wanted their power down for a few days," Mr. Metal wrote in an email. "It would have made witty tweeting more difficult."

Mayor Michael Bloomberg, in his Sunday afternoon press conference, was having none of it. "They should just look in the mirror" and be thankful he said of the tropically depressed. "They're alive today.”

Ava Asher, a medical student living on the Upper East Side, was annoyed that she might not be able to fly out the next day for a month-long rotation in Denver. She had just returned to the city from a rotation in Norwalk, Conn., so that she could fly out. That was before the storm sort of hit. “I got an automated message on Friday night that my Sunday morning flight had been cancelled, 'please call us back if you would like to rebook,’” she said. “An hour-and-a-half of hold music later, I’m flying tomorrow.” The Observer informed her that the mayor had just said there might not be any flights then. Her depression grew.

Ms. Asher thought the whole thing was a ploy, a back-door economic stimulus plan. “I was in a taxi on Friday night, and the driver was like, this is all a plan to get federal financial assistance, and I was like, yep. It most likely is.” She saw evidence of this right outside. “I had never seen so much activity around the 92nd Sreet bars of Yorkville,” she said. “People were obviously staying close to home to get their drinks, which isn't the usual agenda, which involves catching trains to the Lower East Side."

That's the spirit! (Getty)

In Carroll Gardens, at the nexus of Zone-A neighborhoods Red Hook and Gowanus, tropical depression was still blowing in off New York harbor yesterday.

"I was pissed off because I'm in from out of town to visit my sister and her boyfriend," Nick Berks told The Observer while waiting for a airport-bound livery cab on Smith Street, a large chest tattoo poking out above the collar of his black T-shirt. "I wish it hadn't happened, because we had plans to go to the museums and Broadway. It was a letdown, because if you're stuck inside a bar all day and all night, it might as well have been for a good reason besides getting wasted."

Bradley Guin, the boyfriend, blamed The Observer, in a way. "I think the media is responsible," he said from under a Yankees cap. "They overhyped it and got everyone worked up." It wouldn't be the first time we'd brought on some mental malady

Next door, at eight-year-old institution Frankies 457, the backyard was packed, with a wait to get in. Apparently people were taking the day off from work, which had as much to do with the state of the M.T.A (actually pretty good!) as their state of mind (not so much). Nothing a meatball parm could not cure.

Cassandra Rose was sitting on a bench in Cobble Hill park, texting her friends about the storm while enjoying a 16-ounce sugar-free Red Bull. “I’m a photographer, so I was up all night working,” she said. “At about 6 A.M., I thought, O.K., this is a storm, but we had this two weeks ago. I was hoping for something special, because I don’t photograph landscapes, mostly just people. I was hoping for some real chaos so I could really go to town.”

Still, there were those New Yorkers who had been fortunate enough to have been spared by tropical depression. “That’s puerile,” a woman named Bridgette said from behind Jackie-O-sized black sunglasses on Carroll Street next to the rising track of the F and G trains, where they come up from underground. “I’m thrilled there was no hurricane and our toxic canal over there didn’t flood,” she added, gesturing to the nearby banks of the Superfunded Gowanus.

At Bar Great Henry, The Observer got perhaps the chilliest reception of all. We asked the bartendress if she had been suffering the effects of tropical depression, or had heard them from her customers. She stiffened. “No,” she said. “I wasn’t working this weekend, and I just opened.” Two juggernauts at the end of the bar, members of FDNY, DSNY or NYPD as best we could tell, began to mutter something about fucking ingrates.

Sam Roberts was walking his husky, Kameara, nearby. "Not me, but I've heard that," he said of his friends and acquaintances who were suffering from the after effect of the non-effects of Hurricane Irene. "For me, anyway, I was happy there wasn't more destruction because we're right on the flood zone," he said, adding, "I'm just glad we didn't have to spend the night in a shelter."

Mr. Roberts echoed a refrain The Observer heard from those who thought tropical depression was, like so many other psychiatric problems, an invention of an overactive mind, one that seems to gravitate to—and may even be fostered by—New York City. “If it would have been worse, people would have complained about that, instead,” he said.

Back in Midtown, at the Original Penguin store across from Bryant Park, the two saleswomen agreed. “Oh God,” Courtney said. “It’s just a stupid thing. In Florida and the Bahamas, people have to live through it all the time. People are just curious. It’s like the earthquake. Some people are like, ‘Oh, I missed it.’ Really? You want to live through that? I’m from Houston, but here’s it’s unusual, so I guess they do.”

“You should be lucky,” Genie, who grew up here, said. “It’s a New York thing to complain.”

Charles Cho will cop to that. “I was out Saturday night, at this rooftop party, and it was really cool,” he said. “Still, I would have liked to have seen some signs flying around and people falling down.” How depressing.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

When the storm clears, those cabs will still be there.

The Observer has cataloged 25 reasons why Hurricane Irene was good for New York City, and Streetsblog gives us another: burnishing our urban superiority complex. After all, a major storm or disaster like this reminds us of the value of living in dense, transit-rich communities, where you can walk, cab, bike, bus, train or—if you must, if you can—drive to work, to the store, to see friends.

Life without transit also highlighted the value of building places with multiple transportation options. In the streetcar suburb where I was during the storm, people ventured out on foot to see neighbors, survey damage and even head to the few open stores long before most felt safe driving or transit service had resumed. Taxis provided a backup transportation option for normally transit-dependent New Yorkers who really needed to get somewhere.

In contrast, those with only one means of travel — such as drivers in upstate New York, where floods rendered hundreds of roads and bridges impassable — are stuck at home. Irene helped us see the value of multiple transportation modes, or even multiple options within a single mode.

Sinatra was right. If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere—so long as it's in the metro area.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

Usted use Tweetdeck? (YouTube)

Mayor Michael Bloomberg made a visit to Engine 166/Ladder 86 Fire Company on Staten Island today, to thank the firefighters there for their work and hold his second post-Irene press conference.

With clear skies and the city back to work, the mood was light enough for a daring reporter to ask the mayor about El Bloombito, the parodic Twitter account created this weekend by soap-making stay-at-home mom Rachel Figueroa-Levin. Good humored as always, the administration even posted the clip to its YouTube page, titled "El Alcalde Bloomberg habla sobre su esfuerzo por aprender español."

The Observer's Spanish is rusty, too, but according to Gothamist, the mayor said, "I can tell you my Spanish skills come along little by little, but it's difficult because I'm 69 years old, it's difficult to learn a new language. Everyone thank you...thank you for your help." At the end, we think is says, "Is that sufficient?"

And as if the mayor's tech savvy was in doubt, The Observer could not help but notice the iPad he was closing up at the end there, as well.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @MC_NYC

Cabs drove through the rain, too.

It rained Saturday night! The Wall Street Journal sent reporters to far-flung locales such as Long Island City and Crown Heights, where places decided to stay open despite the fake hurricane that, it turns out, never actually existed. Some barkeeps and deli owners thought, hey, a hurricane has never hit New York before. Maybe it'll just rain a little. Maybe I can make an extra buck. Maybe things will be OK.

And that's what happened! They might have gotten a little bit wet, but they did great business.

A Slice of New York in Times Square was doing a brisk business, probably thanks to cooped up tourists, but the candy store around the corner, on 44th and 9th Avenue, was not. That should change when a certain group of men and women return to their desks.

So in the end, things turned out to be fine or, for some people, better than fine.

On the Lower East Side Saturday, The Observer walked by a vigorous daytime rager at Epstein's, where Jerry Ferrera—Turtle on Entourage—and guys in lacrosse pinnies danced to the Black Eyed Peas for hours. Good for them. Later in the night, as the drizzling rain switched to bona-fide rain showers, we drank at Iggy's until they closed, prematurely, due to the city warnings.

No matter: there was a secret late-night party held at a beloved closet-sized French diner nearby, where the twenty people present went through bottle after bottle of red wine, the girls dancing on the bar to "Empire State of Mind" and other songs chosen from YouTube. A soccer match beamed from Europe played on the TV and no one watched. Orchard Street was eerily quiet otherwise, the opposite of most Saturdays, and as the night went on the party picked up more wet-haired stragglers, who gamely joined in on the loud impromptu hurricane party.

And it was a good one. The red wine poured as hard as the rain did, dancing kids knocked over tables, the night got later and later. A pack of cigarettes that was full was suddenly empty. And finally the whipping wind and downpouring rain subsided slowly to nothing as morning—and sun—soon came peeking out of the clouds.

We'll take a hurricane next week, too, please.