The situation was getting out of hand. On one side were the protesters demanding the ancient hotel be treated as a landmark. On the other were the construction workers trying to do their job. The demonstrators chanted and yelled while the construction workers waited for some word from the developers. The tension in the air grew by the second.
I arrived amongst the screaming. I pushed my way through the sea of humans feeling like a salmon going upstream. The shoving slowed me down some; I had to shove back now and then.
I finally arrived at the doors of the hotel. I removed a Mason jar from my jacket pocket. I removed the lid. The building was sucked into the jar. I twisted the lid back on as the crowd went quieter than a mouse at a cat show.
“City Hall has declared the Hotel Tykoo a historic landmark,” I said. I held up the jar. “It’ll be on display at City Hall until another site can be picked. Daily tours have been set up so that people can enter the jar and explore the hotel.”
“I guess that’s OK,” said a protester.
The demonstrators slowly dispersed as the construction equipment powered up.
Joe Rover 
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