In the afterglow of Donald Trump’s inauguration at Rebar, the second-floor cocktail lounge inside the Trump International Hotel and Tower, a sturdy white-haired man in a dark suit made a sudden beeline to the table where I was sitting, staring into my iPhone. It was clear, from the the coiled wire running from his ear into his shirt collar and his businesslike manner, that he was the bar’s bouncer.
I’d posted two photos to Twitter that showed partygoers celebrating as the man whose name is on the front of the building was sworn into the highest office in the land.
Paranoid thoughts and conspiracy theories are not becoming of a journalist. And yet Donald Trump is president of the United States today, and suddenly anything seems possible.
