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Rekha Dixit
Rekha Dixit

US DIARIES

A Trump supporters' party at Las Vegas - First person account

  • Trump supporters at a party in Las Vegas | Rekha Dixit
  • Trump supporters at a party in Las Vegas | Rekha Dixit

The Trump supporter is the angry white man, blue-collared and uncouth. How often had I heard this? Ever since April when I first began reporting on these elections, three stereotypes were clear—Hillary got an educated turnout of whites and all kinds of minorities, Bernie Sanders' meetings were like college festivals with millennials milling around and Trump's were not the places a newcomer should go to, the violence and anger was so palpable there.

Naturally, my curiosity was piqued. When I received an invite to watch the presidential debate with a group of Republican supporters, I accepted it with alacrity. A couple of acquaintances raised their eyebrows, asking me “Are you serious?'”. Though I told them that I was a reporter with no vote in this country, it barely soothed them.

Debate watch parties are hosted to watch the debates in a group, with speeches before and after, and food, drinks and opinion circulating throughout.

The venue was a cowboy style restaurant at the end of Las Vegas' famous strip. It's the type of place locals frequent, with none of the lights and falseness of the tourist attractions. I reached the venue early, having been warned there was limited space. People began coming in cars. With the exception of a clutch of Chinese Americans, and me, the guest list was entirely white. It was a scene out of the America we saw in Hollywood films of the 60s, before immigration began changing the ethnic profile. My all-American companion from multicultural New York was struck. “There are so many blondes here,'' she said, “marvelling”. Indeed, the women were in celebratory mood, many were wearing the flag stylishly on their scarves and tote bags. There are all kinds—educated and well off and the lesser educated, too.

And the men? So many looked as if they'd stepped right out of a Western, what with their Stetson hats, denim pants and crinkles around the eyes. As one particularly hot specimen passed by us, we held our breaths. Was he Clint Eastwood? Disappointingly, he wasn't.

But then unfolded something we were unprepared for. We'd been ready to leave at the slightest sign of boisterousness but the group disarmed us. There were all kinds. Lise Hector was sporting a shirt with elephants printed all over. “I bought this because I'm an animal lover, but it's turned out appropriate wear on such occasions,'' smiled the elegant lady who'd come from California. She's a staunch Republican, but she'd rather have had Pence, the vice presidential candidate, run the race. Hillary was no good, she said, but admitted that she would win. Her son Ross laments the America of yore. “I grew up in a different country, where things were not so polarised. We had different opinions, but shook hands and worked together. Today, no one is willing to listen to the other. There is no meeting point.'' 

“`CNN was once Communist News Network,  now it is Clinton News Network,'' says another, emphatically, but without rage. “Same difference,'' drawls a cowboy looking man with a glass of beer in hand.

There's a small excitement in one corner as a blonde man with a typical squint in his eye entered. “Trump!'' squealed a woman. He's an impersonator and sportingly mingled with the crowd, posing for pictures with the guests. 

“I love Trump,'' says a nurse who drove down from Riverside in California only for this party. “I must have covered 1,500 miles this year attending Trump events. At one event, I met him and he called me darling. He's so wonderful!'' Another woman told me to read the Bible. “He is the promised warrior,'' she intones. “Warrior, not prophet, mind you,'' she added in an afterthought.

A few Republican local leaders gave talks, then the victuals started and we turned to the television screens. The food was robust American barbeque; none of the Mexican or Chinese items was there. There were massive screens all over the venue, each beaming Fox News. As Donald Trump made an appearance, cheers rose. 

Every time he made a wisecrack or tried putting Hillary in a spot, the cheers got louder. Hillary got the expected boos. There was no foul language, none of the promised anger. “They are normal people,'' my friend concluded grudgingly.

All too soon, the debate was over and the music turned on. The crowd got ready for some serious dancing. As I headed back, I was touched by the warmth and friendliness I received and the new friends I made. As always, treading on the path less taken has made all the difference.

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