My First 16-Hour Power Outage In Puerto Rico
When people told me that Puerto Rico’s electricity situation was “inconsistent,” I thought they meant occasional power blips — the kind where the lights flicker for five seconds, you shrug, and life goes on. Cute. Quaint. Manageable.
What they really meant was: you’re going to spend entire chunks of your day and night marinating in your own sweat while the fridge slowly warms up and the internet dies a tragic, silent death. And I am not joking!
Welcome to my first full day — 16 hours straight — without electricity.
The Scene: Rain, Humidity, and Zero Backup Plan
Of course, the blackout couldn’t happen on a breezy, sunny day where I could fling open the windows and let nature help out. No. It had to happen on a day when the sky dumped rain nonstop, the air was muggy enough to steam vegetables, and I was home alone.
Alone… with a generator I had never touched in my life.
Apparently, everyone in Puerto Rico learns generator basics early on, like some kind of survival rite of passage. Unfortunately, as a newcomer, I had skipped that part. So there it sat — my big, intimidating, gasoline-guzzling backup plan — while I googled “how to turn on a generator” on my quickly dying phone. I ended up calling my brother who lives a town away to come help me because starting a generator in the rain was an absolute disaster.
The Island’s Ongoing Power Problem
Here’s the thing — electricity here is not just unreliable, it’s creatively unreliable. It goes out:
When you’re working (because who needs income, right?).
During a medical emergency (because stress doesn’t spike blood pressure enough).
While you’re traveling (good luck navigating — 90% of streetlights on the island don’t work).
Sometimes it’s gone for an hour. Sometimes for a whole day. You just don’t know. It’s like playing the worst version of roulette where the prize is deciding between sweating in the dark or draining your savings on gas for the generator. Can you imagine going out for backup fuel to power the generator during a heavy rainstorm where the streets are flooding and you’re not sure the gas station will be open? Yep, that was me. I mean, I couldn’t make this up if I wanted to. I was NOT in good humor that day or night.
Working from Home Without Power? Forget It.
As someone who works from home, losing power midday is the productivity equivalent of being shoved into a hammock and told, “Good luck doing literally anything.” No electricity means no Wi-Fi, no Zoom calls, no access to files, and sometimes even no running water. You just sit there, waiting for that magical click when the A/C whiz’s back to life.
Nighttime Without Electricity: A Horror Story
But the real test of endurance? Nighttime.
No lights, no fans, no AC. Just me, with a couple of candles burning, with rain hammering on concrete pavement and coquí frogs and other frogs sounding like they were auditioning for a jungle percussion band right outside my door. At one point, I saw actual frogs leaping across the carport, which — I swear — made me jump more than once. They weren’t the small, sweet looking coqui’s. These were big and greenish gray in color.
The air was so heavy I felt like I was breathing through a warm sponge. My hair had fully surrendered to the rain and humidity. My clothes clung like they’d just come out of the wash. And sleep? Not happening. Not only did I not get any work done during the day, I didn’t have the necessary things needed to survive the power outage ready when I needed them. This was one evening I am not going to forget for a while.
Lessons Learned
Learn to use a generator before you need it. Trust me, “emergency generator training” at anytime in rain and 100% humidity is not fun.
Stockpile water and snacks. You’ll thank yourself when the fridge is off-limits.
Have multiple battery-powered fans. It is the ultimate luxury item in Puerto Rico.
Have multiple extension cords with the right adaptors.
Keep necessary equipment and supplies in an organized, easy to get to room.
Mentally prepare for random outages. They don’t ask permission.
Sixteen hours later, the lights came back with a soft hum, like the island saying, “See? I was just kidding.” But I knew better — this was not a one-time prank. This was initiation.
Welcome to island life. Bring a fan and a lot of patience.
