As I begin to write this, My fiancé and I are sitting in the Wolfgang Puck bar at LAX watching the Indiana returns on my iPhone. When I shriek, "The margin's down to 16,000!" a woman at the end of the bar turns to her friends as says, "See! We should've been there. We would have counted!"
They are five women, three from Indiana, two from Chicago. We broach the topic gingerly: Who are you for?
"I have a bumpersticker on my car," says the first woman. "It says OBH." We ponder that for a moment. "Anybody But Hillary!"
"Shouldn't that be 'ABH?'" my husband-to-be whispers to me.
"She's drunk," I remind him. But the point is, we are now free to find out from these Midwestern white women what we want to know: Why are all they all for Obama?
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