In the early hours of Wednesday morning last week, I sped down an empty motorway as rain pounded the asphalt, heading towards a Republican election-night party in the outskirts of Detroit. It was one of those storms that distorts your vision, where the lines of the road blur in slicks of water and the street lights refract through cascading droplets on the windscreen. The lonely roads and perilous weather felt like an apt backdrop. Donald Trump was about to be declared the next president of the United States.
I went through the double doors and into the large, carpeted convention hall just seconds before Fox News called the race. The chatter began to dissipate as the crowd erupted, surging towards a stage at the back and waving large, black flags that read “Fix America Again”. Elation and relief. Mayhem and incoherence. “Lock them up! Send them back! Jesus! Jesus!” shouted one woman.
