Thursday, December 29, 2016

Trump Tower, New York City

The security was certainly tight.  New York City police on every street corner. The press of people was awful.  No place for claustraphobia or social phobia.
When we crossed 5th Avenue to the Trump Tower side there were barriers up and police checking bags a block from the entrance.  At the entrance there was private security and a half dozen heavily armed helmeted flack jacketed Secret Police.  It reminded me of living in London when the IRA were blowing up people.  Or that other time when I was in Paris and Carlos was operational.  The French soldiers were on every street corner. Or Jerusalem when terrorist had struck there and I walked through men dressed like this, carrying automatic weapons, wearing helmets, knowing they were targets.  I always fear being collateral damage.
It took courage for Laura to come here. She was excited as was everyone else there.  History in the making. This was Trump Tower and Mr. Trump was the president elect of the United States of America. Still  he was getting as many threats as Martin Luther King and Gandhi.  Crazies were everywhere.  Americans had their Lincoln. They’d made a huge monument to him in Washington.  Here was another icon.  Andy  Warhol would have painted his face on a soup can if he were alive. Some one else would have put a bullseye over it.
Security checked our bags once more inside. The security was comforting.  I just wanted to go for a coffee in the Starbucks.  But it was too busy.  Everyone wanted to be in the Trump Tower it seemed.  The place was packed.  Maybe we’d see Ivanka, I thought, imagining her and her child passing through these crowds.
“Are you okay,” I asked Laura, as we rode up the escalator. “Yes, this is history in the making. It’s amazing. I thought they’d closed off the street. I never imagined we’d  be allowed inside Trump Tower."
It really was something.  The building was as beautiful as they say. The outside an architectural wonder. Inside a really beautiful space. I loved the water cascading down the wall behind the Christmas tree.   I loved  the elegant  decor of  restaurants and cafe.  We took the escalator to the outdoor public garden. I liked taking photographs.  We didn’t stay.  The line up for coffee at Starbucks  too long.
Admittedly I was anxious too.  I’d no need to be there if a suicide bomber decided to pick this time. There were safer places.  I felt that anxiety I’d felt many times before especially the times blood was drying on sidewalks.
“Thanks for your protection,” I said as I walked past the last of the security.  She smiled under her helmut and gave me a thumbs up.  Then we were out on the street moving in the crowds slowly away.
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