Every half hour or so, the herd shuffled forward 15 or 20 feet before the police barriers up ahead closed again. Whenever we moved, a chant of "USA! USA!" broke out, only to die as soon as progress stopped.
As the sun drifted toward the Hudson River and the sparkling fall day cooled off, the clock was outrunning us. I've been in Trump crowds before, but never in New York City.
The familiarly scuzzy and desolate neighborhood around Penn Station was filled with a political throng wearing an unusual amount of red for a city that dresses dark.
A friend had bought two tickets, but word reached us from the front that tickets weren't being checked-they were a ruse for the campaign to snag fundraising emails.
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