On line at the armory to get into the de Blasio party, I decided I was not a racist, since de Blasio has a black wife and two black children and I would, upon entry, be celebrating his win. In some ways, I realized, I was less a racist than de Blasio himself, who, when he married, could not have been certain his children would be black.
I, on the other hand, know his children are black. I was therefore embracing a victory by a family three-quarters black, where he could only have been certain his family would be one-half black, at the time of his marriage.
“Andrew J. Lederer.”
“I don’t have you on the list.”
“I’m a congressman.”
“You’re a CONGRESSMAN?”
“You don’t have to be so surprised.”
“Do you have ID?”
I showed him some.
“That’s a driver’s license.”
“What do you want me to do, show you my congressman’s badge? I left it in the cereal.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic, sir.”
Was this guy not gonna let me in? He was just a scrawny white guy.