It has been over 30 years since I last walked through Penn Station, close to 20 since walking through any major train station. Back in those days, I'd ease my way into whatever took me to Manhattan with an amble up to 44th Street for a kick-back cup of coffee at The Algonquin.
Not so on Thursday afternoon. I was a woman with a purpose - to get to Book Culture on Columbus, almost fifty blocks distance. No way I was walking. And it was around 5:30 p.m. - no way I was flagging a taxi. For the first time ever, I headed to the subway.
What an experience! Most of the chaotic crowd seem to know the choreography of rush hour, instinctively navigated through multi rivers of people flowing through the wide hallways. Not me! Yet, instead of feeling overwhelmed, found myself wishing I could watch the scene from above, the movement was so fast, fluid & fascinating. Was fully engaged with awe, even as I did my best to not get run over by a well-dressed woman in bright pink Reebok's.
While the whooshing rush of humanity sticks most in my mind, what still chills my fluttering heart is the image of the police & National Guard troops along the perimeters of the station halls, well armed, holding weapons. It was the first time for me, seeing that level of "prepared for the anything" officers. My breath still goes shallow, remembering my immediate response to just the site of them standing outside Duane Reade & Tim Hortons.
They are there to protect & serve a city still heartbroken after 9/11, but...
There is something that put even me on edge, seeing the fire power, the body armor & stance. Necessary, but it comes with a cost. The constant edge of fear that rises just seeing them.
This recent memory came to mind seeing a photo of a woman looking like she was almost dancing with two officers in riot gear, at a protest in Baton Rouge, LA.
I understand why police would feel the need to bulk up their protection, especially after the tragedy in Dallas, but - again - it comes with a cost. If my breath went shallow, my heart revved just seeing the armed police in Penn Station, can't imagine my physiological reaction to full riot gear.
And here is something I learned at this year's Leading to Well-Being Conference - - our heart sends more messages to the brain than the reverse. Way more. A tensed heart is going to send alarm signals to the brain must faster than the brain can send reassuring messages of "All clear here" back to the heart.
Imagining how it feels to see lines of officers in riot gear, imagining how it feels to be one of them.
I get the reason for the gear, although it absolutely looks super scary in ways that naturally puts everyone on greater edge. But it's one of the many things we need to seriously factor into our understanding that 2016 is not the '60s. Our police are trained in military tactics rather than community law enforcement, they - as a matter of course - often dress in flat-out frightening gear, past experience tells them to stay on high alert.
My eyes were opened on Thursday, walking through Penn Station. Looking at the picture of the young woman's ballet with the two officers deepened my sense of what I'd seen.
We are a nation armed to the teeth, putting on a show of potential devastating force at a peace rally, on the ready to be triggered into action.
Back in the actual '60s, my considerably older sister impressed her baby sister with an observation made seeing pictures of ready-to-roll police securing the perimeters of a peace march. Walter Cronkite was describing the scene, the undercurrent of tension. Mim said that having police at the ready was a double-edged sword, providing protection but also amping up the possibility of violence, even through an unintended or misunderstood action.
Never thought I'd be reliving those days. But, walking through Penn Station on Thursday - hours before the tragedy in Dallas, which only amped things up even more - my eyes were opened WIDE. Just writing this, my breath has gone shallow, my heart's revved up. Imagine being in the midst of it.
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