After the foofarilla at the Boston Marathon earlier this year, New York City officials promised security at this year’s marathon would be unprecedented. They weren’t kidding.
At about 7:30, half an hour before the race was set to begin, I popped across the street to the Egyptian bodega to pick up that day’s beer and smokes. Normally at that hour on a Sunday morning the place is empty. This time, though, the little deli was packed with cops standing around, drinking weak coffee, eating egg sandwiches and shooting the shit. I could hardly worm my way back to the beer cooler for all the cops in the way. I have never seen a cop in there before, and it was immediately clear they were part of the marathon security detail.