Oh Reno, how I love you. I want to pet your seedy underbelly. Let your vintage neon signs light up my face. Eat your $10 prime rib at midnight. Wonder about the sordid history of the carpet in your casinos. Watch your river flow by and let my mind wander.

“EXCUSE ME!”

I tense up as the tall gray-haired man wearing grandpa glasses yells to grab our attention and then stands a little too close for comfort. I was with 3 other women outside a Starbucks in Reno wearing Hillary Clinton t-shirts as we got ready to knocks on doors and talk to voters. Outside of my Bay Area bubble, I realize I’m assuming random people (well, white men at least) are Trump supporters until they prove otherwise.