America may be talking itself into a civil war

As I crossed the pedestrian walkway, a flatbed truck driver leaned out his window and unleashed a barrage of angry words at me. The wind swallowed most of his rant, but the essence was clear: he was furious, and his fury was aimed at “Democrats”, “budgets”, and “billions of dollars”. My puzzled expression likely only heightened the veins bulging in his neck. With a final, dismissive curse, he sped away, his old truck groaning under the strain, but not before glaring at me through his rear-view mirror. The faded U.S. flag sticker on his window was a faint clue to his political leanings, though I was more perplexed by why he assumed I was a Democrat. Was it my outdated 1990s attire—jeans, shirt, and blazer combo—that my wife swears she will leave me if I wear again?

Becoming more American than the Americans themselves

We'll call him Paul, because that’s not his real name—at least according to his Lyft profile. He picked me up on Main St. and 5th in downtown Los Angeles, just a few blocks from Skid Row. According to Wikipedia, this area hosts one of the largest stable populations of homeless people in the U.S., estimated at over 4,400. According to Paul, it also houses freshly-released prisoners in subsidised accommodation. You can tell the difference, he said—they look clean, unlike their dirt-encrusted neighbours. I had been waiting obliviously outside a shelter where many of them stayed, not very smart according to Paul, but I was okay since it was the start of the month. The ex-cons had just received their government allowance and were busy organising drugs or doing drugs, or both. But come evening, or especially weekends near the end of the month, and I wouldn’t want to be there.