It takes a lot to worry a New Yorker. Giant rats? Yawn. Terrorist attacks? They overcame that. Godzilla, King Kong and a Sharknado tearing up the city? Been there, done that.
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But winter storm "Juno" had New Yorkers worried.
The massive storm cell somehow sneaked up on the US east coast, with warnings only going out 24 hours before the blizzard was set to bury New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Connecticut and Massachusetts in up to a metre of snow.
I recently moved from Wollongong to the Brooklyn neighbourhood of Williamsburg to intern with the United Nations press corps and was luckily already at a grocery store when news of the freak storm broke. Supplies were gathered and food was bought, with mental lists of "snow day" movies already compiling as I waited in line to pay.
The storm has been dubbed Juno. Unlike its 2007 movie namesake, this Juno is less about teenage awkwardness than it is about wind gusts of 90km/h, bucketing snow and Arctic temperatures.
The National Weather Service warned of a "crippling and potentially historic" storm. New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio said it "will most likely be one of the largest blizzards in the history of New York City", possibly eclipsing weather records dating back to 1869.
My flatmate didn't believe me when I told her about the storm on Sunday night.
"Three feet of snow? No way," she said, with the typical New York braggadocio of "we've seen it all before, we got through it then, we're not worried now".
By Monday morning - with news of workplaces and schools shutting up early, public transport in jeopardy and the forced closure of all roads from 11pm - she was up early to buy supplies for what may be two days of blizzard.
I was pleased to wake up to emails from my internship supervisor announcing first, our office would not be open Monday or Tuesday, then that the UN would be closed from Monday afternoon until at least Wednesday.
In other words - and probably the first and only time I'll ever get to say this - SNOW DAY.
The snow started falling mid-morning, a light sprinkling that dusted rooftops and cars, as people hurried to bunker down. Supermarkets and corner stores sold out of bottled water, tinned food, cereal and snacks in hours.
The Mayor announced the closure of roads and the cancellation of public transport - reportedly the first time the famous New York subway system had ever been closed due to a blizzard. More than 5000 flights in the north-west US were cancelled and despite the famous "neither snow nor rain" creed of the US Postal Service, even mail routes were suspended.
Snow piled up through the day and evening, clumping gutter-high in the twilight as stragglers rushed home. The storm was due to hit Monday evening. Flakes swirled in a growing wind, the sky darkened, then … Not much.
The snow stopped. Cars grew fewer and fewer on the road, but people ventured outside again into what seemed the eerie calm before the storm. Even approaching midnight, hours after the storm was predicted to hit, the snow still did not come.
Grabbing some supplies or playing in the snow, walking to a friend's house or simply grabbing some takeaway, the New Yorkers outside once again embodied what could be the unofficial motto of their great city:
"We're not worried."
