I was in New York City for the television upfront presentation. NBC had picked up my one and only comedy and was touting it, along with the rest of its schedule, which included Trump’s television series. I was standing with our show’s star, waiting for our turn to walk the red carpet. Trump was standing behind us, a large man with the body of a Dutch farmer or college football lineman gone to fat. He grabbed our star by the shoulder. “You’re a winner,” Trump said to the star. “I’m a winner, too. And there aren’t many of us left.” Trump shook our hands and then managed to slip ahead and walk the carpet before us. Neither the star nor I said a word to him. I recall his hand was warm, plump and soft; a pampered hand. As to whether it was small or not, I cannot say. As for his hair, it was ochre and grey, the color of a woodland creature’s winter pelt. The color of his skin was salmon. Our show was canceled. Trump’s show remains on the air. It did not occur to me that I was meeting the future Republican nominee for President.