America: From a Fallen Child Star to the Head of the University of the West

Chapter 122 What to Eat

The next morning, Benny drove his Tesla south with Sean, Rachel, and Kelly in tow.

After driving for more than three hours, they entered the Rio Grande Valley region. The roadside signs began to change to bilingual languages, first in English, then in Spanish. The gas station signs also changed from "Shell" to "Tienda".

Benny drove into a supermarket parking lot in a small town and stopped.

"We've arrived in McCarran," he said, turning off the engine. "This is the county seat of Hidalgo County. It has a population of about 150,000, 85 percent of whom are Latino. This is our first stop today."

The four people got off the bus.

The sun was shining directly down, and waves of heat rose from the asphalt road.

Several elderly people were sitting on a bench outside the supermarket, chatting in Spanish. They glanced at Sean and his group of unfamiliar faces, then looked away and continued their conversation.

Rachel opened her phone and checked the data: "The data shows that McCarran's unemployment rate is 8.7%, which is almost three percentage points higher than the Texas state average. The poverty rate is 28%, and 40 percent of households are receiving some form of government assistance."

Sean nodded without saying anything, simply observing his surroundings.

Benny led them into a small restaurant next to the supermarket. The sign read "EIPatio," the door was open, and the aroma of grilled meat wafted out.

The restaurant wasn't crowded; there were four or five tables, seating seven or eight customers. They found a seat by the window. A middle-aged woman wearing an apron approached, first greeting them in Spanish, then switching to English when they didn't respond: "What would you like to eat?"

Benny ordered four tacos and coffee.

The man sitting at the table next to them was in his fifties, wearing a plaid shirt, and looking down at a newspaper.

Sean turned to face the man and politely said, "Sir, excuse me, may I speak with you for a few minutes?"

He can now be described as a complete corporate bull.

The man looked up, a hint of wariness in his eyes: "What are you talking about?"

"Just a casual chat," Sean said calmly. "I'm from California and I'd like to know more about things here."

The man put down his newspaper and looked him over carefully for a few moments.

Suddenly, his eyes widened.

"Are you—the one who debated with Senator Crane on TV?" the man asked uncertainly. "I think I've seen you on TV before."

Sean smiled and admitted, "Yes, it was me."

The man was silent for a few seconds, then extended his hand: "My name is Ramon Garcia, I'm a local."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ramon."

The number above Ramon's head is [35].

Ramon looked at him, then at Benny and Rachel beside him, and asked, "What are you doing here? Are you filming some kind of documentary?"

“We’re not filming a documentary,” Sean shook his head. “We just wanted to come and see for ourselves, to hear the real sounds of this place. You just said you’ve lived here your whole life, could you tell us what the biggest changes have been over the years?”

Ramon was silent for a moment, then folded the newspaper and put it aside.

"Change?" he repeated the word, then said, "The biggest change is that more and more people I know are starting to vote Republican."

Sean didn't interrupt, waiting for him to continue.

"My grandfather's generation, the whole family voted for the Democratic Party."

"What specific era is it?"

"The era of President Roosevelt!"

"————That's quite old indeed————"

"Yes, back then the Democratic Party was still providing food for workers and a way for immigrants to make a living. My father also voted for the Democratic Party. During President Kennedy's time, the Democratic Party was still seen by many people as the Catholic party. I myself voted for the Democratic Party for thirty years."

It sounds exactly like an old Texas blue flag.

But then he paused, his tone becoming somewhat complicated.

"But in 2020, I didn't vote for the incumbent president."

Sean asked, somewhat idiotically, "Why?"

Ramon looked at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions.

"Because my son worked in the border patrol. For those years, he was verbally abused every day and called a 'Nazi' every day."

"Just because he was enforcing the law. I don't know when the Democratic Party became a party that criticizes police officers, border patrol, and all law enforcement. My son is a good man; he's Catholic, of immigrant descent, goes to church every Sunday, and never hurts anyone. He's simply doing his job. But those who criticize him don't care about that; they only care about labeling him."

Rachel asked softly, "So, that's why you switched to the Republican Party?"

Ramon shook his head: "I didn't vote for the Republicans. I didn't vote for anyone. I abstained from that election. It was the first time in my life I had abstained."

He looked at Sean, his eyes filled with a deep weariness.

"Do you know what it feels like to abstain? It's when you feel like no one can truly represent you anymore. The Democrats think I should naturally follow them: just because my last name is Garcia and I'm Latino. The Republicans also think I should follow them, just because I don't vote for the Democrats. But none of them know who I really am, and none of them care why my son can't sleep at night."

The restaurant was quiet for a few seconds, with only the sound of the television news in the background.

Just then, the waiter brought out the tacos and placed them on their table. The steaming tortillas were filled with scrambled eggs and sausage, and served with a small bowl of red salsa sauce.

Sean didn't touch the food.

"Ramon," he said, looking at the other man earnestly, "what if someone cares? What if someone is willing to listen to you and take these words to Washington?"

Ramon looked at him and remained silent for a while.

"You're not the first person to ask me that," he said with a hint of resigned indifference. "Before every election, people come. Democrats come, Republicans come, asking similar questions and saying similar things. Then, as soon as the election is over, they all leave, while we're still here."

He stood up and picked up the newspaper from the table.

"You look different from them. But I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

After saying that, he turned and walked out of the restaurant.

Sean watched his figure disappear through the door without saying a word.

Benny interjected, "These are the kinds of people I told you about. They don't hate either side; they're just disappointed, deeply disappointed."

Rachel picked up a taco, took a bite, and commented, "It tastes pretty good."

Kelly looked at her and smiled, "You've got quite the nerve, still able to eat at a time like this."

Rachel swallowed her food and said calmly, "You won't remember a story if you listen to it on an empty stomach. Let's fill our stomachs first."

Upon hearing this, Sean picked up his own taco and began to eat.

It tastes pretty good!

After lunch, Benny took them for a walk around town. They went to a community center where food was being distributed to those in need.

They went to a church where the priest was preparing for the afternoon mass.

They also visited a farm machinery shop, where the owner, a Mexican man in his sixties, told them that the harvest was poor this year, mainly due to drought.

Wherever he went, Sean listened attentively, asked questions when appropriate, and kept the important points in mind.

He didn't know when it started, but his restless mood calmed down.

Rachel took photos and videos with her phone, and occasionally asked a few questions.

As evening fell, they stood on a small hill, gazing into the distance. That was said to be the Rio Grande, and across the river lay Mexico.

Benny stood next to Sean and asked, "Mr. Pan, how did you feel about this trip?"

Sean didn't speak; his gaze returned to the river in the distance.

"After listening to them talk so much, I really think America is sometimes terminally ill," he said in a startling statement. "If I could leave here, I think I would go to Cancun. I've heard that it has beautiful beaches."

At the same time, in Washington, D.C.

Harris Crane stood in his office with three newly delivered opinion poll reports in front of him.

He slammed the three reports onto his desk.

Sarah Wayne stood to the side, barely daring to breathe.

"Four percentage points." Crane's voice sounded calm, but every word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth. "I've been campaigning in that district for twenty-five years, and he only went a few times, and my approval rating dropped by four percentage points?"

No one in the room dared to speak.

Just then, the door opened, and a young assistant poked his head in: "Senator, the caucuses called, asking if you could attend a closed-door meeting tomorrow to discuss—"

"Tell them I'm busy," Crane interrupted him without turning around.

The assistant quickly turned back and closed the door.

Crane walked to the window, his back to the two people in the room.

Robert Keane cautiously began, "Senator, perhaps—perhaps we need to adjust our strategy accordingly."

There are some voices within the Party who believe that we are paying too much attention to Pan, which has given him more exposure and —”

Crane whirled around: "So you mean I should ignore him? Pretend he doesn't exist?"

Keane immediately shut his mouth, not daring to say another word.

Sarah took a deep breath, stepped forward, and said, "Senator, there's something I need to report to you."

"explain."

"We found a man named Carlos Mendes."

"Who?"

“He’s a former senior manager at the Avalon Foundation,” Sarah explained. “There are reports that someone saw him in Mexico. He’s still alive, and—he seems willing to talk.”

Crane didn't speak, he just stared at her.

Sarah continued her report, her pace quickening: "The information Mendes possesses could very well help you clear your name of any improper ties with the Avalon Foundation. He knows who the real mastermind is—"

Of course he knows who the mastermind is!

"And then?" Crane interrupted her. "And then I was exonerated? And then I won?"

Sarah was stunned and didn't know how to answer for a moment.

Crane looked at her. "You think I don't know about the mess in Avalon? You think I don't know who's behind it all? You think I want to be dragged into this? Mendes has information, that's true. But in his information, doesn't he have records of how many meals I've had with those people, how many times I've shaken hands with them, and how many donations I've received from them?"

"And this guy must have already sold the information to someone else!"

The office was deathly silent.

"So we're just going to leave it at that?"

After thinking for a moment, Crane said, "No, no, no, find a way to bring him to Washington. I want to see him in person."

"Yes, Senator. But what if he refuses to come?"

He's a nobody, why would he come back if he has nothing better to do?

"I have my own way of handling that." Crane looked at her and added, "Also, go tell those in the party who offered suggestions that I don't need their guidance. I know exactly what I'm doing—"