Unexpected blackout hits Madrid: a look at the city during power outage

In the midst of it all, suddenly—just like that—the lights go kaput. Your apartment, your neighborhood, the entire city, it's all blacked out. And there's no frickin' cell service either.

Now, a few years back, a big blackout like this would be unheard of. Remember "el gran apagón"? Ah, the good old days. But here we are, living a nightmare on a Monday at high noon.

In Spain, they'd been hearing rumors of an army exercise a while back—a drill they'd titled "Austria prepares for the big blackout." Unbelievable how life imitates art, huh?

The streets are a mess. Gatherings form in front of stores, exchanging bits and pieces of scrappy info. It's not just Madrid hit, but the whole dang country. "Hey, did they cut the power in the Canary Islands too?" someone asks. "They're in a different time zone, they'll go dark in an hour," comes an old Spaniard's response, followed by a hearty laugh from the crowd.

You should've been more prepared, buddy

Over in Madrid's north, folks keep chugging along with their morning routines in the dimly lit bars and shops. After half an hour or so, word trickles through like an urban myth: Portugal's down too, and so is France. Early rumors circulate, but everyone agrees it's a cyberattack this time.

As the hours drag on, Madrid's folks do what they did during the pandemic: hit the stores and bars, catching a buzz while they're at it. Gathering around a car radio blasting out tunes becomes a trendy pastime in the dimly lit streets. Others sneak peeks from their balconies or hang out the windows.

On the radio, they're buzzing about stuck trains, elevators, planes, and workplaces. Reports come in about Ceuta, an isolated Spanish enclave in Africa, trying to stay connected by radio, and about an IKEA store where people have congregated. "We're juicing up our radios with batteries they have over there," chortles a gal's voice.

What's a person to do when the lights go out?

Politicians keep warning people not to call 112 unless it's an emergency, but the streets around Madrid are jam-packed. Traffic's getting tough to manage. The tunnels are sealed off, and stores and ATMs are running dry in the city center. Store owners keep watch near the entrances to their shops.

Madrid's regional president, Isabel Ayuso, demands that the government activates emergency level 3 so the army can patrol the streets and maintain order. But after five long hours without power, there's still no explanation from the government.

""Blackout one of the greatest threats to modern states"" until the Prime Minister, Pedro Sánchez, finally speaks up at 6 PM. He asks people not to spread misinformation and says they're searching for the cause and working with their European partners. By 8 PM, power's gradually starting to come back, but there are still 28 trains still blocked.

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Smartphones, being the only source of communication with the outside world now, are being used excessively with people sharing general-news and crime-and-justice updates via text messages and social media platforms.
The blackout has unexpectedly disrupted various services, with accidents being reported in many parts of the city, including stuck trains, elevators, and planes.
In the midst of this chaos, there's a notable increased presence of disinformation, making it difficult for people to distinguish between facts and falsehoods.
During such a stressful time, an isolated area like Ceuta, an exclave, struggles to maintain its usual functions due to the blackout, with people relying on radios for updates.
Amidst all these incidences, politicians find themselves under pressure to keep the peace and restore order as they confront the threat posed by the blackout to the modern state.