"This is America. Why can't they fix the lights?"
This was Ms Faiza Haider's cry from the heart after five days without electrical power in her Washington suburb of Rockville. "They" is the Potomac Electric Power Company, usually called Pepco, which had 230,000 customers without electricity for up to six cold days and nights.
In all about 435,000 homes and businesses in the Washington area serviced by Pepco and other companies were suddenly cut off by an ice-storm which hit the area at the end of last week.
Your correspondent and better half were among the deprived who were left wondering how the American Dream on the eve of the next millennium could include a prolonged spell in a Twilight Zone.
The lights began going out all over Washington early on Friday morning. People lying warm and snug in the pre-dawn dark began hearing pops and hisses. The sky began lighting up with dancing greenish lights like "a suburban aurora borealis", according to one knowledgable witness.
In our area, a series of loud explosions a few streets away sounded alarming. Later we found it was transformer fuses blowing up.
As dawn broke, a look out the window revealed a dazzling but ominous scene. This was our first ice-storm, a rather odd term as there was not a breath of wind but lots of ice.
During the night, rain had passed through freezing air and turned immediately to ice. Branches of trees weighed down with the extra weight began to crack and fall on power lines.
The deciduous trees, which are one of the capital's glories as the leaves change colour, had now become a treacherous weapon as branches unable to bear the extra 20lb-a-foot weight of ice splintered and crashed down on houses, cars and power lines.
The iced-up trees were a gorgeous sight. The Washington Post reporter wrote poetically about how "limbs of crystal trees arced gracefully" and "sequins of ice sparkled on lawns".
A few hours later, the aesthetics had given way to the survival instinct. No heat, no light, no cooker, no TV, no computer, no Internet. Life as we know it was ebbing away. And this was daytime.
People who struggled to their offices to find these bleak conditions joked grimly that this was "a drill for Y2K".
The ice-storm had done funny things. It had struck the Bethesda suburb, one of the most affluent in the country, and other commuter areas around Washington while leaving the capital itself largely untouched.
So if you could get out of your house - getting the electrically operated garage door open was a slight problem - light, heat and laughter awaited you in neighbouring malls, cinemas and restaurants. And hotels.
The power was off barely a few hours when some families were booking into hotels with heated swimming pools for the kids. The old pioneer spirit is not all it used to be.
But the local papers stumbled on people huddled over wood stoves and wearing layers of clothes. Donald Simonds (66), a retired CIA employee, wore "flannel-lined khaki pants, socks, an undershirt, a flannel shirt and a sweater to bed". Those old spy survival techniques come in handy sometimes.
In the Carroll household, a wood fire kept cold at bay as long as you hung over it. The fire consumed logs at an alarming rate. The candles came on around five in the afternoon and a battery radio brought news of Pepco's efforts to reach us.
Pepco president, John Derrick, loyally defended his company while "sympathising" with his shivering customers. He arranged for the distribution of 120,000lb of dry ice to keep food from going bad.
The Governor of Maryland declared a state of emergency, which meant that the National Guard could be mobilised. Community centres were opened for those without power who could not stay with relatives or pay for a hotel.
We must confess that after three days of the candles and the log fires we gave in and booked into a hotel a few miles away. In from the Ice Age to warmth, light, hot food. To heck with Pepco and "the most destructive storm in its 102-year-old history".
Pepco blamed the trees and the Maryland law which stops the company cutting the overhanging branches well back from the power lines.
Mr Derrick admitted that Pepco did not do a great job in handling calls from frustrated customers who saw houses nearby all lit up while they shivered in the dark and cold.
One woman who called in to tell Pepco about the plight of an elderly neighbour got this response: "Ma'am, not to sound too harsh, but if she's elderly, hasn't she already had a good life?"