“There is a cult of ignorance in the United States, and there always has been. The strain of anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge”. -Isaac Asimov

After leaving Albuquerque and Santa Fe, the sun was already setting. We were feeling weary from our travels and longed for a hot meal and some entertainment. We checked into our 2-star motel, transferred my valuables out of the car, and settled in, We headed to El Cafecito, a ‘Mexican joint with Southwest flair’. Shops in the country close early and we made it in the nick of time. I had the fajitas paired with a couple Modelos. Faraz had the enchiladas. We inquired about a local watering hole that was open past 8:30. There’s not a lot to do in a town of 9,000 inhabitants. We were directed to a bar. Its name I cannot recall.

At the bar, I sat down and ordered a Goose Island IPA. Goose Island had been bought out several years ago, but the taste included some nostalgia of a true Chicago beer. There was a basketball game on, but I came for human connection. I began speaking to another patron. I asked him how he liked it here in Grants and he replied that it was “okay” and that he liked it out in the country. He mentioned a couple restaurants in addition to the KFC, Denny’s, and insert generic chain restaurant here. He showed myself and another customer pictures of the new guns he’d bought. The conversation was casual and talking about guns is what you do in the middle of nowhere. However, it took a quick change.

After learning I was from liberal Chicago and headed out to even more liberal Los Angeles, he asked if “I voted for that commie n****r, Barack Obama”. I was taken aback by his blatant racism and disinformation. Obama was certainly not a communist. Everyone knows that aside from your Fox News loving racist uncle. He then showed me his upper arm tattoo of the confederate flag. He was an All American Patriot and was proud that his ancestors fought for the confederacy 160 years ago. Not knowing what I’d gotten myself into and ignoring the racist remark, I tried to explain some of Obama’s policies that benefited his constituents. I was grateful that I was able to purchase a healthcare plan as I’d recently been deemed “too old” to be on my parents’ insurance or that Obama had been the first president to openly support the gay community. I recognized that this conversation was not going to change his mind and we went back to talking about guns. He mentioned that he kept 3 guns in his car at all times in case Obama or his government agents ever came to take them away. I wished I had been able to reprimand him for his racism and ignorance, but I was in unknown territory.

The two of us recognized that there was karaoke going on in the other room and ceased conversation. I sang “The Bad Touch”, a classic Bloodhound gang song, while he awkwardly danced with a woman half his height. It was a spectacular sight. After singing, I received some applause and we continued our conversation about guns. He showed me some more pictures of “his babies” and he pointed out a Black man in the bar whom he had taken a liking for — or who was a regular. He claimed with a smile, “That’s a good n****r, right there”. After the second comment, I distanced myself and found another patron to talk to. This patron had overheard our conversation and stated, “I don’t hate Obama, but I sure do love George W. Bush”. I felt surprised by the fact that the rest of the bar patrons didn’t seem to pay attention to this man’s racism. Even this Bush-loving man was able to make some compromise. It was as if it was commonplace and I’m certain it was. The overt racism would not be tolerated in any major city, but in a ‘simple’ town like Grants and much of the rural United States, that was the norm.

Was there any way to convince this man with a confederate flag tattoo of logic or reason that Barack Obama was not a communist? What point does it hold to inform a coal miner that the work they do is destroying the planet? How could one ever convince an ignoramus that homeless individuals don’t use drugs when all they see are tents filled with ne’er do wells and dregs of society? We touched on the power of persuasion and headed back to the hotel. I poured myself some bourbon as we chatted with the small-town hotel managers. We crashed for the night and made our way onward to Flagstaff and then down to Tempe, AZ. Life sure is different in small towns.

Edit: The 2016 Presidential debates were on the TV at the bar - Not a basketball game.