Things may be much drier in these parts as of late, but some side effects of June's flooding may be an indicator of far worse things to come, especially as far as the city's low-income population is concerned.

At 8:30 a.m. on June 28, the morning after some of the heaviest rainfall, I was riding the Broad Street subway through North Philadelphia when the conductor announced, "Everybody off! We have an electrical problem, sorry for the inconvenience." Everyone groaned and the sidewalks at Broad and Erie were soon flooded with hundreds of would-be commuters, furious at their inability to get to their respective destinations.

As the temperature outside rose, so too did the tension as the stranded passengers, most of them left with no alternative mode of transportation, stood and waited, a few of them lucky enough to have cell phones to call friends and relatives for rides.

Most of the almost entirely black (except for me) sea of faces represent some of the most disadvantaged sectors of our society — working single mothers, students on their way to the most underfunded public schools in the region, and others. For most, SEPTA is the only conceivable way to get where they need to go — where, in most cases, they barely earn enough to survive.

The orange line remained shut down throughout the afternoon, with specially dispatched SEPTA shuttle busses attempting to pick up the slack. By noon, practically every other vehicle on Broad Street was a bus with passengers packed against the front windshield. If one even stopped to pick you up, you were lucky to be able to squeeze on. It got me thinking — first, funny how the orange line is the first thing to break down in the city. The Market-Frankford, or as I sometimes call it, "the White Line," was running smoothly all day, with that creepy robotic female voice announcing each stop. But more importantly, I wondered: If heavy rain is all it takes to totally debilitate a 10-mile subway line — the main artery of transportation for thousands of Philadelphians — how would this city fare in a more serious catastrophe?

Philadelphia is considered by the Department of Homeland Security to be a "high-threat urban area." You don't have to have a pin-up of al-Zarqawi in your locker to see how easy it would be to cause a great deal of damage here.

On July 13, the office of Mayor John Street released the final report of the Emergency Preparedness Review Committee, commissioned by the mayor to assess precisely how fucked we are. Philadelphia, says the report, is "severely limited" in its capacity to carry out many of the tasks needed to deal with a large-scale disaster, whether man-made or dealt by nature. Among the more than 200 inadequacies pointed out by the committee are communications systems, evacuation logistics and citizen education. The city's emergency preparedness operations, unlike New York and Washington, D.C., do not operate 24/7. Then there's the elusive determination of just which level of government bears which responsibilities (sound familiar?).

As was the case with Katrina, the hardest hit will be the primarily black low-income and homeless population, the people the report refers to as those with "special needs." Among the lessons from Katrina were that neighborhoods without access to basic resources are the areas where attention is most needed. The committee's report is a step in the right direction, but it does not go far enough.

Mayor Street should lobby the federal government for more funding to prepare for a citywide disaster, arguing that Philadelphia is a prime target for terrorists with a bustling downtown and unparalleled historical importance. He should also work with Gov. Rendell and other local governments to make sure everybody's on the same page when — not if — something happens.

The city needs to follow up on the recommendations of the committee, and do it pronto, as if the city's life depends on it. 'Cause it does.