Just in from a movie, dinner and a storewide state of panic. We hit Fairway after the much-to-chew-on “Her” for pizza, pork and cheap wine and figured we should pick up a few groceries afterward since we were there. And what a scene. Locusts had to have come through right before us: The fresh bread aisle was stripped bare (although you could have all the plastic-bagged, “good-forever” crap you wanted); the milk shelves were empty (unless you wanted the ultra-processed crap with an expiry date sometime in July), and over to the tomato-pasta area only the finest cans and boxes had been left behind (all the cheap crap was gone, baby, gone). Not for the first time, I had to wonder if blizzards aren’t actually staged by supermarkets. This is New York. Food is never a problem. I remember 9/11 like it was yesterday: I trotted right out for kitty litter and cash in the a.m. but got pizza and wine delivered that night. Even in the last blackout, you could get any food you wanted if you had cash to circumvent frozen registers and weren’t desperate for ice cream. No wonder the clerks and cashiers tonight were laughing all the way to the hedge fund bank. They’ve seen this movie before, and it is very, very good for business. The funniest part was inching across the snowy sidewalks to the C train while dodging delivery bikes and realizing: All these people juggling all these bags with milk and bread and tomatoes are just going to go home, pick up the phone and order in Thai . . . .