She drank the Kool-Aid.

She drank the Kool-Aid. There has been much discussion of Hurricane Katrina lately, but this passenger has a more informed perspective than most. She works for the Department of Fish and Wildlife and is here from D.C. for a conference. I ask her about increased wetlands development; wetlands help protect against storm surge. "Oh, the wetlands were all filled in and developed before you and I were even born." Mentioning Bush's gutting of the Corps of Engineers' and FEMA's budgets is met with a dismissive snort, if such a genteel lady could be said to snort. The spotted owl comes up, and she bemoans the loss of jobs associated with that. "I'll bet you think there's less timber than there used to be, don't you?" she says. I'll bet you think I'm stupid enough to answer a question posed like that in the affirmative, I do not say. Now the atmosphere in the cab is tense, and I feel like it's my fault. It's not like I couldn't have spotted it: her modest flowered dress, her Phyllis Schlafly hairdo, the small neat earrings and small neat purse. And there's nothing wrong with these things. We literally do wear our preferences on our sleeves, with varying degrees of subtlety. If we didn't, there wouldn't be such a clang of cognitive dissonance when we encounter someone who runs contrary to type-the tattooed and pierced Republican, the prim and proper libertarian librarian. I had ignored her signifiers and now I must pay for it. With my blood pressure.

WWeek 2015