[...] I told the producer she should go to a socialist meeting, where there would be a lot of politically engaged men who loved drinking. She replied, Oh, but I’m such a Hillary girl, and I knew exactly what she meant: she believed socialists were sexist. I had only been to one socialist event in New York and didn’t even vote in the primary, so maybe it was guilt that inspired me to begin to attempt to explain what Hillary girls were missing wrt the intersection of class with race and gender and sexuality, wrt I mean I grew up in . . . The women were silent as I went through all this, my eyes rarely making contact with theirs and instead looking off at the condiment-and-napkin station, so after a few gestures toward my socioeconomic background without revelation I added “but she does have to deal with a lot of shit” to make sure they didn’t abandon me at the Travel Plaza. I was offered the last curly fry. All in all it took us eight and a half hours to get to the beltway, in the rain.