Tuesday, January 19, 2021 - Nowhere: the last few hours of an abomination of a presidency.
Although I’ve lived in New York for nearly a decade, before tonight I didn’t know where to find Trump Tower. I’ve likely walked past the Trump International Hotel, which sits between Central Park West and Broadway, just north of Columbus Circle and right next to the park almost a hundred times. But I didn’t know that that building was the hotel; whereas the other building (I’m not sure if I even knew that there was another building), which might be considered the main building, Trump Tower, sits at Fifth Avenue, between East Fifty-Sixth and East Fifty-Seventh Street.
It would have been easy to look those coordinates up. But I never did. And doing so never crossed my mind. But tonight I had an errand to run on the Upper East Side, and rather than cycling up Madison Avenue and cutting down on the time that it would take to reach East Seventy-First and Park, I decided to walk.
I hadn’t seen Midtown East or the Upper East Side at night for a while, and I wanted to just walk and take in the sights: the empty storefronts; the empty sidewalks and streets; the restaurant here or there with outdoor dining made possible by built-out tents and heat lamps; and the local and express buses that would pass by, carrying five or so passengers along their routes, north.
Even though I’ve grown used to the city being this slow and empty and quiet, especially at night, and especially on the Upper East Side –––– there’s still something startling about the darkness, and about the desertedness. How quiet is it? It’s so quiet that as I was walking down Madison Avenue at one point a man on an electric bike started laughing into his cell phone –––– it wasn’t that loud! –––– but still, I jumped. Just hearing another person’s voice so close to me was a surprise. That’s how quiet it is on the Upper East Side; at least for now.
But as I walked by Trump Tower this evening, I had already walked five to ten steps past the building before I could register that I had just past a building bearing the name of a man who has caused so much pain and suffering. Already I had watched clips from Joe Biden’s remarks from Wilmington, Delaware earlier today. And in doing so, I had witnessed a man about to take the helm of the presidency of this country who could, and would, and did –––– actually express emotions, and actually allow himself a moment of quiet reflection and tears as he prepared to leave home and head back to Washington. But outside Trump Tower –––– along the sidewalk and streets of Fifth Avenue and Fifty-Sixth, there was nothing.
Just a vacuum. Emptiness. Absence. Hollow air. Yet this was the man who was responsible for leading The United States through the last four years –––– and this was the energy that he brought to the job: Emptiness. Absence. Hollow air. The rage and lies. The refusal to acknowledge realty or engage in civil debate: Emptiness. Absence. Hollow air. How many times can a man puff-up and beat on his chest before his audience realizes that there’s nothing there. Smoke n mirrors. Emptiness. Absence. Hollow air.
Like millions Americans, Trump’s sensationalism, his ever-increasing need for attention and headlines did a number on my heart and my psyche over these last four years. And most recently, it was hard to watch and read the news from the riot in Washington on January Sixth without viewing the scenes of the danger and tumult through the same lens that Trump himself must have viewed them: something interesting to watch; and a spirited group of people actively engaging in their patriotic duties to protect our country. But of course it was none of those things.
It was madness, and the result of a group of people who’ve had their emotions played upon for the last five years by one hell of a salesman ––– being led to act according to his most recent wiles. Apart from dangerous, deadly, and a stark reminder of the discrepancies between law enforcement’s treatment of minorities ––– compared to the almost free reign that those who stormed the capitol were given –––– it wasn’t anything else. Smoke n mirrors. Emptiness. Absence. Hollow air.
It’s fitting that Fifth Avenue feels the way that it felt this evening, and has felt since Covid-19 first hit New York last March. Amidst a global pandemic, which has sacked this city and wrought havoc, and pain, and suffering, and death on this country at a rate far worse than it had to, it makes sense that these Manhattan streets would feel as empty as they did tonight.
With a nation led by a man without any center, and led by a man who has spent the last four years blowing hot air; spouting lies; seeking headlines at all costs; and protecting his ego before anything or anyone else, how could the space outside of Trump Tower feel any different than it felt tonight. Emptiness. Absence. Hollow air.
Though after my walk tonight, at least I can now place the building on Manhattan’s map. Some might say that it’s located at Fifth Avenue and East Fifty-Sixth Street. Though given all that’s happened over the last four years, including the outright assault on truth, diplomacy, and facts; at least within these last few hours of this abomination of a presidency, this much is just as true: it’s nowhere.
