Red Hook Grain Terminal
One such bout of fixation brought me to the Red Hook Grain Terminal, a place that, after attempting entry, I learned was guarded like a fortress. I returned, befriended a construction worker, by taking some photos for him, and asked if he had ever been to the top. He chuckled and said that he had, but that you need a good reason, and not even the cops or fire department are let up there. I asked, somewhat jokingly, if he was ever allowed to bring guests. He evaded the questions, and laughed it off.
I text him the photos, restating the desire to get inside the terminal. He does not reply.
A month later, I try texting him again. He calls me, at first not remembering me, but upon reminder of the photos I took for him, recalls. He jovially tells me that he's bad at texting, but that if he ever doesn't reply "to just keep calling him."
I do.
