On my way home from work I stop at a popular pizza joint on 5th Avenue in Brooklyn. It’s unseasonably warm out, and the standing-room-only restaurant has kept it’s facade open to the street. After I place my order I wander outside and stand on the sidewalk opposite the restaurant’s makeshift dining shed, three barrier walls that jut out onto 5th Avenue. The busy thoroughfare is thick with automobile traffic and delivery cyclists who whizz by at regular intervals, colored lights ablaze in the night. Obvious to all of this, three teenagers are sitting at one of the tables, huddled around a cell phone that one of them has propped up against the shed barrier. One of the teens is blocking my view, so I can’t make out what’s playing on the tiny screen, but when he shifts position I catch a glimpse of colorful bursts of light, shots of frenzied crowds, and what look like political banners. The election is only a few days away – could this be a political rally? I cringe at the thought that these young men in the heart of Brooklyn might be ‘Trump bros’; but regardless of their political affiliation, the idea that these teens would take politics and the future of the country seriously enough to be watching this event at night, outside, and in the middle of this chaotic avenue, is somehow heartening. The trio is so immersed in the program that they don’t hear the first few times an employee shouts out their order. Finally one of them turns around, waives his hand in acknowledgement, takes one last look at the screen, then strolls up to the counter to retrieve the group’s pizza. His absence from the table gives me an unobstructed view of what’s playing on the tiny screen: a professional wrestling match.