It’s almost 2 p.m. in Madrid, and traffic is backed up near the U.S. Embassy.
A police helicopter hovers motionless over the building and the police cordon off the area. The average Madrileño has minimal tolerance for traffic jams, and in the years since the scourge of ETA terrorism and then jihadist attacks, they are more concerned with being able to get from A to B than with their personal safety. Blaring out all around me, a concert of irritated horns and unaddressed insults. The atmosphere can be summed up in the amusing cry of a driver: “I don’t care if I blow up and go to hell, but for God’s sake, fix this damned traffic jam!” Whenever anti-terror protocol is activated at an embassy, it’s usually a false alarm. This time, it’s not. After a while, a small explosion can be heard.
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