As I write this column, I am on the way to Milwaukee to cover the Republican National Convention. My plane is packed with GOP delegates from New Jersey and New York, journalists, and civilians who have love or business somewhere in the Midwest.
There’s a palpable sense of apprehension on board. It’s the day after former president Donald Trump was wounded in an assassination attempt in what can only be described as a spectacular failure of the multi-billion dollar national security apparatus. As passengers who boarded at Newark Liberty International, we’ve all just submitted to being poked and prodded by the TSA after taking our shoes and belts off in a kind of homage to a decades-old regime virtually unchanged since after 9/11.
