Blog: Floating cars, lights out, but New Yorkers don't panic

"New Yorkers don't panic."  So says my building concierge Roberto Perez, a native New Yorker living in the city since he was 2 years old.

 90 mph winds lash out, and the storm surges a record 13.88 feet.

The eye of the storm hit at 8 pm local time near Atlantic City in New Jersey and already 10 are confirmed dead. With a 900 mile radius, it will affect 60 million people.

Cars are floating down streets and more than 3 million are without power.

All bridges and tunnels remain closed. Tonight, Manhattan is truly an isolated island.

My couch is shaking and the windows are rattling. Looking out, I see a ghost town. The city that does not sleep is quiet. Eerily quiet.

There are barely any cars except emergency vehicles.

The city that is always bright is dark. Scarily dark. Below 40th street, most buildings have no power. Our lights flicker and we keep the flashlights close.

But earlier in the evening, I went down to my local grocery store. And surprise, surprise, it was busier than ever. Jose Alcantarra, the manager at Morton Williams, says that business is good and they will stay open.

Cabs have been arranged to pick and drop off employees.

Shelves were slowly emptying - water, juice, chips and canned soups seemed to be the go-to items.

But even though Maria, a salesperson is hoping "they run out of items", Alcantarra assures me that he has several replenishments coming in.

A similar sentiment is echoed by Hira Hassan, a cab driver from Kolkata, India. 'We have to pay back the lease money', he explains as I ask him if he will continue to drive later tonight.

For some it is compulsion, for others, an adventure. Josh and Natalie, just flew in from Australia and had to be evacuated from their apartment in Battery Park. Staying with friends in Midtown Manhattan, they were shopping because 'the least we could do was to cook them dinner'.

Meanwhile, in New York to film an entertainment show, Londoners Alex and Laurens say "We are not used to hurricanes, we don't get them in England."

But they are still thinking of getting in a few hours of shooting this evening as they don't want their pricey shoot permits to go to waste.

Perhaps most concerned are the elderly and parents with little kids. Courtney, mother to three-year-old Charlie says "He is driving us pretty stir crazy because he likes being out and about."

Back in my building, Roberto Perez tells me the storm is the worst he has ever seen. "The biggest fear is power failure. Especially people getting stuck in elevators in the 50-storey skyscrapers."

While the government hasn't officially reached out yet, Perez says the building will start calling families with young kids and the elderly first. To make sure they are safe or get them safely down to the lobby.

But the calm belies reality.  A crane collapsed on 57th street at New York's tallest 90-storey residential building, just a few blocks from me. It is now dangling precariously. I can see it out of my window.

Surrounding buildings and the Hotel Le Parker Meridien were evacuated.

Power utility major ConEd has shut down power in lower Manhattan. A fire has erupted in their power plant.

Fallen trees and branches are turning into projectiles. The sea water has seeped into the subways.

Stock exchanges, public transport and schools remain shut on Tuesday.

This is the longest weather-related shutdown for the NYSE since 1888.

My doorbell just rang. Remember this is unusual in Manhattan where visitors are announced. It was my neighbor figuring out how we are handling the storm-neighbors who might not talk in years besides a polite "Hello" have common ground now.

 We decided if it got really bad we will all sit out in the hallway. The fear is that even regular objects can become deadly projectiles at 800 feet.

But you know what. Dominoes still delivers. I can't bring myself to order, but this is New York.

It is going to be a long night. Don't panic.