An Average Joe Visits Mar-a-Lago

"Who let that guy in here?"

Last week, I wrote about the world premiere of The Eastman Dilemma at Mar-a-Lago, and the fascinating panel discussion on lawfare featuring many of its most prominent survivors.

“That’s nice,” I could feel many of you thinking. “But what’s it really like at Mar-a-Lago?” Well … it was kind of like this.

Trying to Play It Cool

You try to be cool at Mar-a-Lago.

“’S’up, Kevin Sorbo.”

“A fine point, General Flynn, but have you considered … ?”

“Yeah, Mar-a-Lago is beautiful, but the Biltmore is more impressive.”

Then you step into a gold-plated bathroom and find yourself stashing a logo-stamped paper hand towel into your computer bag as a souvenir. Yeah, real cool. (Don’t judge me. I immediately discovered I wasn’t the only person to do this.)

Yet, despite the kind of opulence that would turn King Solomon’s head and playing host to world-shaping figures, the most surprising feature of Mar-a-Lago — except, perhaps, for the immaculate croquet field — is how comfortable the place is. How relaxed. Dare I even say “homey”?

More on that in a bit.

It’s a Home … But You Don’t Forget Whose Home

My Mar-a-Lago experience began many hours before the film screening, when I took an early morning drive over from my hotel to case the joint. About a mile out, on the Southern Boulevard approach, even before I could see Mar-a-Lago rising above the palm trees across the Intracoastal Waterway, I was reminded of the ever-present danger President-Elect Donald Trump faces every day. The sheriffs department had set up canopies along the road and were pulling over trucks and vans to inspect for bombs. Mind you, this screening took place mere days after the cybertruck bombing at Trump’s hotel in Las Vegas on New Year’s Day.

A couple of blocks further down the road, I encountered more cops with more canopies.

After crossing the bridge and landing at the edge of the Mar-a-Lago resort, the security presence became overwhelming. My first up-close sight of Mar-a-Lago was a bit of wall to the left, officers ushering cars around onto Lake Avenue, and orange cones. Lots of orange cones. To the right there was what appeared to be a Secret Service staging area.

I would return to that staging area later that afternoon. (Uber drivers are not allowed to drop people off at Mar-a-Lago.) I got out in that staging area, had my ID verified by a friendly Secret Service agent, then was whisked across the street in a shuttle as if I was boarding a ride at Universal Studios. Rather than entering Hogwarts, though, I was entering the expansive lair of Donald Trump.

The shuttle flew us past tennis courts and a shade-covered two-story section of resort suites to what one could call a side door in the shadow of Mar-a-Lago’s iconic tower.

Peeking toward the Atlantic side of the property, I found grass as fine as any green at Pebble Beach stretching all the way to the ocean. Nestled against the building was a perfectly manicured croquet field. (Croquet? That’s a throwback to the early twentieth-century origins of Mar-a-Lago. But Trump playing croquet? That’s hard to imagine. But Trump deciding to push croquet back to the forefront of American leisure activities, with the all-new “Trump Croquet Set,” making additional millions of dollars? “Make Croquet Great Again”? That’s actually pretty easy to imagine. “It’s the best croquet set ever! Really great. Just flawless, actually.”)

But for all the splendor of the grass, the most striking landscape feature was the massive American flag flying at half-staff in honor of President Jimmy Carter — an Old Glory so huge that it nearly reached the ground in the calm breeze.

My former Stream colleague Rachel Alexander, who had invited me, took a few pictures with me before we entered the wizard’s castle.

Journalist Rachel Alexander at Mar-a-Lago for screening of The Eastman Dilemma, January 4, 2025.

Getting the Lay of the Luxurious Land

Between moments of pinching ourselves that we were actually at Mar-a-Lago, the next few minutes were a blur as we sought to get the lay of the land. I was surprised how easily we could move about inside the building — seemingly as easily as if we were members of the Mar-a-Lago Club. Sure, we were aware of the presence of the Secret Service and resort staffers, but a person would get eyeballed more coldly and more suspiciously at a Beverly Hills boutique than we did at the president’s house.

The reception and red carpet for the premiere would be at the pool. We found our way into a casual lounge area above the pool — strolling past a relaxing Alan Dershowitz — and then down a sweeping, curving staircase to the pool level.

We were greeted by a lovely vista, looking out across the length of the pool down toward the Intracoastal Waterway; modern sculptures ringed one side the deck a red carpet was laid out on the other. Despite my obvious excitement and nervousness, I found my breath slowing amid the natural beauty. The pool itself seemed surprisingly small, my perception perhaps colored by the enormous pools of Hearst Castle in California, or my expectation that Trump’s home would have a pool that could host the Olympic swimming competition. Far more impressive was the Spanish- and Portuguese-influenced structure that surrounded it.

Me, poolside at Mar-a-Lago.

The screening would take place in the ballroom. “Where’s that?” we asked a staffer.

“Which ballroom?” he kindly asked in return.

Famous People

I’ve been around famous people before: I once attended a Bible study at Smokey Robinson’s house. I also once was kissed on the lips by Terminator star Linda Hamilton in her Pacific Palisades cottage. I later watched Antonio Sabato Jr. murder my wife for two hours (during a movie shoot. There was more than one take of that scene.).

Heck, I even met Donald Trump about 15 years ago, when, to my family’s horror, my mother-in-law chased him across the lobby of the Beverly Hills Hotel like an NFL back chasing a kick-off returner in the open field.

But this event a Mar-a-Lago wasn’t anything like that; this was casually hanging out with history and the people who made it: the gentlemanly Alan Dershowitz seemingly being swallowed up by an overstuffed chair. General Michael Flynn, arms folded across his chest, speaking crisply against the backdrop of a fireplace that could have held Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, plus the fourth man in the fire. A beaming John Eastman, showing off his new grandson between hugs to my friend, who grew close to him while extensively covering his disbarment hearing in L.A..

Oh, sure. There were the beautiful people, too. Mar-a-Lago Club members were also milling about — characters you’d find adding glamour to any TV show set in West Palm Beach. However, more beautiful were the guests who paid a nice penny to come to the premiere, and the female journalists who all broke out their finest for their elegant night at Mar-a-Lago. Podcaster CammCon, aka Brian Rufo, took in all the glamour. “Not my kind of scene,” he declared. (Brian knows how to play it cool. Bet he didn’t grab a paper towel as a souvenir.)  

I learned long ago during my days at the Voice of America — and this idea was certainly emphasized during my days in L.A. — that famous people and important people are not necessarily the same people. Over the poolside hors d’oeuvres (“Did you try the wild mushroom risotto?” “The salmon skewers were great.” “Wait. Pizza?”), I fell into a conversation with a lawyer from Los Angeles who is a protégé of John Eastman. There have been no national headlines for her, but after her daughter suffered severe side effects from the COVID vaccine, she led the fight against school mandates in California — important work that helped save lives and protect children.

Or how about the artist Sean Danconia, whose work was exhibited before the film? He’d recently done a portrait of Trump that caught the president’s eye, and next thing he knew he was invited to the event to display his art. Several times he said, “My career is over tomorrow when my clients see I’m at Mar-a-Lago.” Yet he’s still bravely following his muse to create works that champion the great spirit and creativity of America.   

Yes, this was a night full of brave people.

Which gets us to Donald Trump.

Catching a Flick with the Man Himself

Fifteen massive crystal chandeliers hang in the ballroom that hosted the panel discussion and screening. The walls and ceilings are laced with intricate patterns of gold. The floor is a polished beige stone I could almost see my reflection in as I chomped down popcorn and M&Ms.

I’d been joking earlier with one of the Mar-a-Lago staffers about how it couldn’t be a movie if there was no popcorn. But the joke was on me: A popcorn station was waiting as I entered the ballroom, with that same staffer standing there, smiling. There was also a table piled high with bags of M&M and other treats; over to the side, a beverage station.

Man, they don’t even let you have food and drinks at the Screen Actors Guild theater in L.A.! I remember thinking.

This ballroom could have been the local AMC theater or someone’s living room — even if the chandeliers alone cost more than it would to make a major motion picture.

The panel discussion was well underway and my bag of popcorn halfway empty when a clatter arose in the ballroom. Heads swiveled toward the back. People jumped up with their cameras in hands. Sorry, panelists — Donald Trump had arrived.

While I could not see him at first, the blasting of Lee Greenwood’s song “Proud to Be An American” made it clear to everyone that the man was present.

President-Elect Donald Trump watching a panel discussion on lawfare at Mar-a-Lago, January 4, 2025, as audience members watch him.

What I remember most was the huge, enthusiastic smile on Rudy Giuliani’s face when Trump came in. Giuliani has been bankrupted and charged like a common criminal because he chose to represent Trump in looking into the Biden family’s activities in Ukraine and for representing Trump in the aftermath of the 2020 presidential election. But he was beaming as if he were 10 years old and Mickey Mantle himself had strolled into the room.

When the crowd (finally) settled back into their seats for the discussion, Trump remained in the foyer just beyond the ballroom entrance. He was standing there with a blonde woman who was so tiny that at first, I wondered if it was one of his granddaughters. No, we would soon learn: That’s the prime minister of Italy, Georgia Meloni.

Trump and Meloni soon ducked out for dinner, and then returned to watch the movie. Trump took to the stage to do a five-minute comedy set, mostly teasing Alan Dershowitz. “There’s no way Alan voted for Joe Biden. No way,” he said. “He just says that because his wife is a big liberal and he wants to keep her happy.”

He also brought up soon-to-be Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who welcomed all of us from other states to Florida.

President-Elect Donald Trump welcoming guests to the screening of The Eastman Dilemma — and doing a bit of stand-up comedy.

If you had asked me in 2016 if I thought I would ever go to Mar-a-Lago, I would have said, “That’s possible.” After all, Stream publisher James Robison developed a close relationship with Trump during his first presidential campaign. But would I be at Mar-a-Lago watching Donald Trump treat “Little Marco” like a fourth son while hosting a movie? That thought never entered my mind.

A Moment When I Remembered Where We Were

As The Eastman Dilemma played, I had a harrowing reminder of what was at stake for Donald Trump and anyone else willing to stand up for constitutional freedoms in a world that wants to see them eliminated. Through a window, I saw a van pull up alongside the ballroom — and immediately, images of the Trump hotel bombing from a few days earlier flashed through my mind, as did the sickening understanding that there are parties both foreign and domestic who want to see Trump taken out by any means necessary. While part of my brain recognized that the van was no threat, I also was aware of just how miserably the Secret Service failed to protect him when would-be assassin Thomas Crooks took a shot at him in July … and for that matter, how they failed again later when a second shooter was discovered at Trump’s golf course.

Similarly, as Trump left the stage and so many tried to crowd around him, I had to wonder, Does anyone here mean him harm? I realized I hadn’t gone through any obvious metal detectors. Certainly nobody checked my computer bag.

Fortunately, the anxious moment passed and Mar-a-Lago’s spirit of relaxation returned. Trump’s safe, you’re safe … breathe.

Welcomed to His Home

For all the opulence — and that is the best word to describe the place — it is clear that Donald Trump goes out of his way to make guests and even journalists feel comfortable at Mar-a-Lago. Sure, the beautiful setting, the palm trees, and the warm breezes are custom-made for relaxing, but you can find all those elements in Beverly Hills and still feel as if you’d be shot if you touched anything. Or worse: someone might give you an icy glare that suggests you are nothing more than a bothersome flea.

No, the warm welcome and hospitality at Mar-a-Lago is a reflection of the man who owns it. It’s carried down through the friendly and wildly efficient staff.

Mar-a-Lago is an inviting place … even if it is made of gold. 

Al Perrotta is The Stream’s Washington bureau chief, coauthor with John Zmirak of The Politically Incorrect Guide to Immigration, and coauthor of the counterterrorism memoir Hostile Intent: Protecting Yourself Against Terrorism.