The reckless Iran war shows up for most Americans as a number at a gas pump, not as images or moral reckoning
The airport in Las Vegas last Friday afternoon was what you might expect for a WrestleMania weekend. Packed terminal. Delays stacking up. Nobody going anywhere. Then we heard why.
Air Force One was on the ground. Everything stopped. No one was taking off until the president finished doing his business.
I was in no rush, but I can’t even thank him for the break. I ended up waiting 20 minutes for a bar seat at a restaurant named after a sports league, all to order a meal that ended up upsetting my stomach. It was a quintessentially American moment.
People were doing what people do. Checking their phones. Standing up like something might have changed. Sitting back down when it hadn’t.
