When I was in New York, I never feared that I might be struck by a DoorDash delivery person and the ambulance crew might hesitate to help because I had a different opinion on marginal tax rates. But this view is not widely shared. See this tweet:

“My husband thinks I’m crazy because I refuse to visit or drive THROUGH a red state because I don’t feel safe. Would you drive through Kentucky or Texas with NY State license plates? Am I being obtuse?”

Not the word I’d use, but whatever you think you are being, the answer is yes. But not according to the first response!

“Imo, no. Wouldn’t want to take a chance on breaking down and having to worry about a gun-totin MAGA being the one with the tow truck coming to help. Won’t even take a flight that has a stopover in a Red State. Not really afraid. Just don’t want to temp [sic] fate if I don’t have too [sic].”

So imagine the scenarios. Some good ol’ boys have gone to the airport to see who comes in, just like the menfolk used to go to the square of Dodge City to see who came off the stagecoach. Might be a purty gal who was fixin’ to work at the Longbranch Saloon. Might be a gunman who’d come on a job, maybe someone famous like Fast Bill Dixon or Speedyhand Thomson or Extremely Dextrous Alphonse. Might be someone you ran out of town a while back, on account of he was a claim jumper. The marshall didn’t back your play, but you saw him, plain as day, standing over your claim, jumpin’ up and down. What’s a man to do but run him out?

Same thing at the airport at Magaville International. The locals gather around, and when someone comes off the plane who looks like he might vote on the Brandon side, if you know what I mean, you follow him down to baggage. While he waits for his bags you stand there chewing on toothpicks, making sure your dusters are open so he can see your holstered guns. Maybe you follow him over to where the Ubers are tied up, and you lean in the window and say, “Have a nice time now, y’hear? Just make sure you take that piece of ironmongery outta your nose, because some folk around here, why, they might think you’re one of those homocommies, and we got laws about that. Hell, we got a special tree branch for it.”

Uh-huh. I live in a blue state that borders a red state. I move between the two without fear, this being the United States of America. But it makes me wonder whether the tremulous Blue Folk who live on the border have to steel themselves to cross the river into Fargo to do business, like the men who were sent to the roof of the exploded Chernobyl reactor to shovel off the deadly graphite. Instead of a lead shield around their loins to protect their gonads, they wrap their heads with tinfoil or copies of Ruth Bader Ginsburg speeches and then take a deep breath before driving across the bridge to go to the bank, watching for hordes of shambling trogs driving Walmart mobility scooters, the drivers’ faces contorted with effort as they swing their lassos.

No, probably not. In fact that description is an untenable parody, since no one acts like that. Likewise, no one in a red-state airport is likely to assault someone for insufficient manifestations of Trump approval.

Best part of the tweet: “Not really afraid. Just don’t want to temp fate if I don’t have too.” But rewind a bit: “Wouldn’t want to take a chance on breaking down and having to worry about a gun-totin MAGA being the one with the tow truck coming to help.”

What are the three key words in that sentence? Not “having to worry.” No, they’re “coming to help.” You’re stranded, you’re miles from home, you need assistance. You call AAA. Someone is dispatched. Someone comes to help. But then cold dread sluices down your spine: The person may have voted incorrectly. You’re going to have to stand there in a puddle of your own fluids wondering if — after he has hooked up your car and called the garage to make sure they’re open, so you can get it fixed and get on your way — he’ll suddenly think, Aw hell naw, and just shoot you.

It would be so much better if you could know ahead of time. If AAA would send out tow-truck drivers you could trust.

“Hello, yeah, my car identifies as a dead horse I guess, can you come?”

“Maybe? I don’t know? It’s like a weird time. I just read this Jezebel story on the Dobbs ruling, and I’m like, shaking? Literally. Anyway even if I could come out, the truck is charging? It takes an hour. I could send someone to bring you an electric bike.”

“I can’t leave my car, it has all my luggage.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you don’t need all that stuff? Like maybe you should let go of the material world? This could be a wake-up call? Okay, I’ll see if I can get another truck that’s out making the rounds, but you have to be chill, because xe’s dealing with a lot right now, xe’s ferret is responding poorly to its new non-GMO diet. I mean it’s not sick, but it’s listless. Hello? Are you there?”

We say people live in “bubbles,” but bubbles pop. Some people live curled up in iron bathyspheres.