How
to Enjoy NYC after turning states
(taken from the journal / April 2001 trip to New York)
Flying in from where I departed from, into Newark (DO
NOT FLY INTO JFK OR LGU) if you don't want to run into
to anyone), brought those butterflies back, the ones I
haven't felt in a decade or so.
I forgot how brown and dreary this part of the country
was in early April. Everything was surpringly smooth.
The hotel, great. Went out for lunch at Michael Jordan's
Steakhouse in Grand Central Station, unbelievable. MOST
importantly, I stayed out of those places I knew guys
like me, or guys that knew guys I knew might be. Get lost
in the crowds, int he spots of New York with so many fuckers
from all over, locals look through people. Stay there
you stay alive. I missed the sounds and sights of the
big apple. It was beginning to feel like I was home, and
I almost was. Almost. I made sure not to step out of Manhattan.
Brooklyn is not an option. Never will be.
The only real scare of the 36 hours in the city came immediately
following the early morning live GMA taping with the lovely
Diane Sawyer. She was kind and courteous, especially to
a guy like me. Her personal security personnel had escorted
me FROM the hotel, which was okay. No one knew exactly
when and where ot find me. But now I had to go BACK to
the hotel. I had just been interviewed LIVE on national
television. Interviewed in the studio. The well know studio
located on Times Square, New York City. New York City,
the 100 mile radius center I wasn't even allowed by the
FBI to contact via phone let alone interview on TV, less
than 20 years ago.
It all was hitting me on top of the fact the my security
was busy elsewhere now. I guess they thought "just make
sure Hill lives to get to the studio and thtough the interview,
after that, fuck him, he's on his own". I had a nice PA
and a couple associates with me, but surely no one was
packing or had an experience with this shit. As I stepped
out of the side stage door, it seemed clear. Wait. There
was one noticable man standing a few yards away. He opens
his mouth. "Henry". I almost shit. Then he reaches into
his inner coat pocket! I was about to turn to my side
(decreasing the target (me) size) and push the PA away.
Then... "Henry, can i get a picture with you" This crazy
looking fucker only had a disposable camera. I quickly
took the picture with him, but I was shaking.. visibly
shaking. I got back to my room and looked out over the
city, glad to be looking over it and off the streets.
Being off the streets is a good thing.
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