Rush, rush in city turns into hush-hush

By Herald Apec Staff

A strange phenomenon occurred on the streets of Auckland yesterday: pedestrians - the few there were - looked total strangers in the face and acknowledged their presence.

Walking to work became a stroll, not a swift series of sidesteps, and the luxury of empty footpaths saw faceless and irritating obstacles morph into human beings.

See them smile. See them nod at police guarding the intersections. And this is Monday morning rush hour.

So unnerving for a stylish young man eating muesli at cafe Mecca - his spoon the only thing moving in a deserted Vulcan Lane.

"It's like watching an episode of Blue Heelers. More cops than people, and it's like a small town."

Rain, closed roads and shut shops - a Quiet Earth film set but for the few people who came smiling, nodding and winking, crossing the road without looking.

No one was actually spotted singing in the rain (where have all the buskers gone?), but some swung their umbrellas in their jaunt down Queen St.

Buses glided into town. There was a pick of carparks. Five minutes to cross the bridge from the Shore instead of 20.

"Feels like Sunday," says a taxi driver. "Nooooo-thing out there."

Apec was adding a new layer of meaning to the CBD's darkest words, "power crisis."

Black humour was the only hot commodity as the Heart of the City business association's 170 members began to calculate their losses.

"The powerful are in town, the lights are on and it's still a crisis," quipped the association's general manager, Alex Swney, who blamed police for over-the-top warnings to keep out of the city centre.

Pedestrians were 60 per cent of normal on Thursday, 40 per cent on Friday and an endangered species by the weekend.

At 8.30 pm on Sunday, High St retailers abandoned attempts to stay open until midnight so Apec delegates could shop.

Yesterday's morning rain, Mr Swney said, turned the city into little more than a "wet Sahara Desert."

Even souvenir shops were closed.

Monday usually finds David Maconaghie rushed off his feet serving bus passengers at the Victoria St newsagents, but trade moved when the bus stops did.

"I have never seen it this bad or so slow," he said. "The boss was saying it was worse than when we had the power cut.

"But when you tell people to stay out of the city, what do you expect?"