"No, I live in Philadelphia."
"What are you doing in New York?"
"Why did you come up?"
"Just to hang out in the city. No reason."
This cop gave me a long hard look. I had neither tattoos nor piercings, and my hair and clothes were more or less neutral. I mean, I don't dress to make a statement, and I don't like to wear slogans on my person. He gave me a long, hard look, and I could tell that he didn't quite believe I wasn't a trouble maker of some kind, or maybe even a terrorist ready to plant a robust pipe bomb inside Ben Bernanke's lying quiche hole, but goddamn it, this was only a stupid Starbucks, though it happened to be within sight of the New York Stock Exchange.
Had the cops moved their barrier five feet back, the public could enter this business unmolested, but they couldn't do that, you see, because that would inconvenience the Wall Street denizens arriving from the other direction.
So there you have it. While 99% of us are losing our present and future, as we're harassed and groped and sleep in the rain, in protest or for good, as some of us are sent overseas to get our nuts blown off, a banker must never be made uncomfortable, even when his errand, or, rather, even when his secretary's errand is nothing more than to grab her (and the cops') boss a frappucino.