A taxi driver from Ghana in Paris slipped into a Donald Trump Jr impersonation. It was before dawn in February and very cold, and he immediately knew from my greeting that I was an American.
He began riffing on how ‘dad’ bragged about plans to clean up New York City.
I said, “I liked it better dirty.”
With a glance in the mirror, he confirmed I wasn’t MAGA.
He went into a full-on comedy routine — staying in character as son boasting about father, who he clearly depicted as a blowhard.
Once he confirmed I was friend not foe, he told me about his real son in New York, and I could see he was worried for him.
Some taxi drivers in Paris were silent. A few shared their love of America, and one who discovered I was from California, immediately changed the track to the Eagles’ ‘Hotel California’. We began singing the lyrics.
He only listens to American music.
Paris is in mourning for America. I feel it everywhere I go.
The country that gave us the Statue of Liberty as a celebration of our achievement of accelerating human freedom has watched us fall behind enemy lines.