“Hey, follow me around the campaign trail, three, four, five events today. See how you’re doing compared to me"— Bernie Sanders, during the Las Vegas debate, asserting that, despite his recent heart attack, he is youthful and vigorous.
Follow Bernie around? Hey, no thanks! Because no matter what we think of him or his rivals, we’ve got to give these people credit: They can really schlep.
Most Bostonians go into meltdown mode if the T announces that shuttle buses will be replacing trains, and meanwhile, septuagenarians — and the middle aged — are zipping from coast to coast, bounding onto stages, leading parades, hosting rallies, and notching selfie counts that would exhaust an Instagram influencer.
In one 24-hour period in July, Sanders, 78, walked in five parades covering almost seven miles. In January, Elizabeth Warren, 70 — who walks over six miles a day — smiled for her 100,000th photo with a supporter; and Amy Klobuchar, 59 — briefly freed from Trump’s impeachment trial — flew to Iowa and packed six campaign events into 36 hours, flew back, attended the trial again, and then called into a town hall meeting. In December, Joe Biden, 77, challenged a voter to a push-up contest, and on Thursday, Bloomberg’s campaign told CNN that the 78-year-old’s left ventricular ejection fraction was “normal” at 60-65 percent. (The one without the stamina was the 38-year-old, Pete Buttigieg, who dropped out on Sunday.)
The Democratic primary is like the business trip from hell combined with the world’s worst job interview, layered on top of Thanksgiving dinner with both sides of a dysfunctional family, against a backdrop of a live Tinder feed showing people swiping left.
Don’t these people miss sweat pants?
But getting back to Bernie’s challenge to follow him around on the campaign trail. Could a normal person do it? Most normal people wouldn’t want to, of course, but in Massachusetts, where a high proportion of people seem to think they should be president, the question is pertinent.
For those civilians harboring commander-in-chief dreams, here are some questions to test your campaign readiness:
Could you explain away every stupid thing you’ve said/done since preschool (complete with audio/video clips and high school yearbook quotes) by claiming one of the following: “It was taken out of context,” “I’ve evolved,” “Norms and customs have changed”?
Are you able to eat corn on the cob, angel hair pasta, or fried local specialties dipped in hot fudge sauce while walking? Without gaining weight? With dignity?
Do you have the ability to:
Be awakened at 5 a.m. in a cheap hotel after a late-night campaign stop and bound out of bed with make-up and hair done, and head to a diner where you don’t get to eat, but rather circulate among the booths listening to people whine about health care problems?
In the course of a typical day, how many hours could you pretend to be interested, engaged, and just thrilled to be here!
At a time of coronavirus, would you be able to spend all your time on planes, buses, in crowds, and shaking hands without sneaking Purell?
At a cocktail party, how many people can you make small talk with before you’ve used up your well of good cheer?
On a business trip, if you’ve been traveling, working, talking, meeting, webinar-ing for the past 16 hours, would you rather retreat to your hotel room, whip off your suit and dress shoes, and fall asleep watching an episode of “The Office,” or board a bus, drive to a distant airport, catch three hours of sleep while flying to a small, freezing town, take another bus, and give a talk?
At this point, of course, the last thing Democrats need are more candidates. If party leaders really want to winnow the field, so that voters coalesce around a single moderate candidate, they should make the primary even more challenging by adding real-world challenges to campaign world.
For example: The candidates would have to host a rally, then a 3-year-old’s birthday party, and the hired clown is late. Or they’d meet with an editorial board, do 300 door knocks, and then spend two hours on hold with with Spirit Airlines. Or they’d go to three house parties, write a fund-raising plea, and try to get the contractor to come back to finish the guest bathroom before the in-laws come for Christmas.
As the Super Tuesday frenzy builds, the good news for the candidates is that at some point the campaign stress test ends and one person becomes president. Judging by the activities of the current office holder, the physical requirements are easier. If you can tweet, and be a passenger in a golf cart, you’re good to go.
Beth Teitell can be reached at beth.teitell@globe.com. Follow her @bethteitell.