I’m an RNC delegate who opposed Trump at the convention. It was a scary experience.
It’s hard to pinpoint the moment at which I realized Ted Cruz was about to drop a giant bomb in the middle of the Republican National Convention. I heard chanting coming from the New York delegation, and I slowly realized what they were saying: “Say his name! Say his name!”
You could write a whole sociolinguistic dissertation on those three words in this context.
And then it started to spread, as Cruz did something horrible, something that you should never, ever do at a political convention: He told people they should vote their consciences.
Well, we can’t have that.
Once it became very clear that Cruz wasn’t going to endorse Trump, the hall exploded. They tried to shout him down to “Trump! Trump! Trump!” “Honor your pledge!!!”
It was, to my ear, the loudest the hall got during the entire event — even louder than the welcome Trump would get the next night when he walked on stage to formally accept the nomination. It was a white hot, visceral anger. And the hall was soaked in it.
I never thought I could love Ted Cruz. But in that moment, I did.
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