i felt like a trespasser, a convict on the loose. they "called" my description over the p.a. - don't talk to the girl in pink...must be out of the building. i waited for the lady i needed to interview in between the doorway, hoping to be out of eyesight. but the burly security guard spotted me. i heard the jangle of his keys, the shuffle of his large body. donning a sweaty blue uniform with a plastic flashlight hanging from his pocket, he yielded his little authority to escort me out of the building.
ok mister, you can have your moment of power. it's not everyday someone concedes.
bushwick is bummer.
