Midtown looks like a war zone today. Or at least it looks like the end of a crowded concert where nothing bad has happened yet, but it could. Barricades are everywhere. Casually chatting cops fill the intersections. Slumped shouldered drivers in cars that have been rerouted around Trump Tower, and much of Manhattan’s East Side, have the blank stare of extras in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The mood is intense, and also somehow blasé.

It’s not just that New Yorkers don’t give a damn about The Donald. They do. They care about the havoc he could wreak. They just don’t care if someone hops the makeshift fences to finally get rid of the bastard, or not. They show no interest in catching a glimpse of him in a black car with his long red tie and furiously pink face. Few are trying for a close-up. Mostly, they just seem annoyed that the President’s UN visit is messing with traffic, and personal routines. And that no one is allowed to cross the street mid-block.

I’m sitting with my laptop in a POPS. That’s one of those Privately Owned Public Spaces that has large indoor trees, wi-fi and decent bathrooms with chrome toilet seats. Real estate developers were compelled to offer these open-to-anyone atriums in return for building their urban properties ever skyward. There’s hundreds of them in NYC and they rival the IMAX for big screen viewing.

For a committed people-watcher all that’s lacking is popcorn and a couple of trailers. Fortunately, these public spots often have small cafes. Sipping coffee In a chair facing a wall of windows, I’m viewing today’s feature parade that's been hemmed in by the temporary police railings. There’s a Euro dude (you can tell by the shoes) in a ponytail and business suit, a girl in a black rubber band dress who keeps checking her reflection, and lots of guys in blue or white shirt sleeves carrying recyclable paper bags of take-out back to their desks. It’s a beautiful tableau, a documentary film of people who simply couldn't care less.