More than 35 million people along the Philadelphia-to-Boston corridor rushed to get home on Monday, Jan. 26, 2015. (Associated Press)
New York City came to a quiet standstill early Tuesday as heavier bands of snow blanketed the region.
With the city's ban on driving in effect at 11 p.m., few vehicles remained on the roads as most residents settled in for the night. In Brooklyn, snowplows rumbled by, and groups of cigarette smokers gathered outside the bars that dared to stay open. A few taxis and private cars were out.
Those who had not made it home yet were keeping an eye on the forecast and plotting their commute. At a Sunoco gas station near the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, the night clerk, Kamal Aujla, 35, began to wonder late Monday how he would get back to Ridgewood, Queens, when his shift ended at 6 a.m.
"I will think that through in the morning," he said, watching the storm coverage on television.
Earlier on Monday, workers had scrambled to get home before the storm. Like thousands of other commuters, Ed Russo, 48, tried to avoid the rush and catch the train home to Syosset, on Long Island. He planned ahead, he said, noting that he had been stuck in Manhattan, or otherwise delayed, during past snowstorms.
"Luckily I got out of the city quick enough to avoid most of the bad commute," said Russo, who works at A&E Networks. "I'm not expecting to get home on time, but if I can get home at some point tonight I'll be happy."
Duane Singh, 41, and Milton Castrillano, 43, two handymen in a commercial building in Harlem, also left work early. As they brushed an already thick layer of snow off Singh's red Toyota, they said they would venture over the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge to head home to Queens.
"It will be slow, but I believe we will make it home," Castrillano said.
Singh said he had an advantage over many other drivers. "I have four-wheel drive."
Even at a relatively early hour, many commuters faced an anxious ride home.
In Hamilton, New Jersey, Joseph Chioffi, 53, a securities lawyer for a bank in Manhattan, shivered outside the busy transit station and said he was glad to be close to his home in Princeton. He left work early, taking a 3:02 train to Trenton with standing room only.
His eyes bleary and a little red, a tired Chioffi said he planned to grab a ride with his brother-in-law from Hamilton to Princeton. "I'm just happy to be back," he said.
Those who dared to drive found themselves facing daunting traffic with few options for relief along the way. Amy Caraluzzi drove though New Fairfield, Connecticut, on Monday evening looking for a place to fill her gas tank, but all of the stations had been emptied, she said.
"For the first time ever, there are signs on the pumps saying 'Sorry for the inconvenience, but we're out of everything except diesel,'" she said. "Everyone's been coming in with their 5-gallon containers for their generators. So they're cleaned out."
With such grim transportation prospects, some decided to just hunker down in Manhattan.
Leo Andreacchio, 67, who sells beer at Track 24 near the trains to Connecticut at Grand Central Terminal, said he had restocked his bar three times. On a typical Monday? Not once.
"It looks like the world was coming to an end in here," said Andreacchio who has worked at the terminal for more than 39 years.
At 5 p.m., the terminal felt abandoned. Some commuters had decided to stay overnight, including John Clark, who planned to stay at a hotel in Midtown rather than trek back to Putnam County.
"This is an adventure," he said as he sipped an orange-flavored vodka at a bar. "But I will probably end up calling my wife like five times tonight because I feel guilty."