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By Al Neal
DES MOINES, Iowa—Either force of habit, or the need to self-medicate after months and months of political ad inundations, and door knocks at all hours, led Mr. and Mrs. Ingersoll to find comfort and warmth inside the Royal Mile pub.
They strolled in hand in hand, a bit before 8:00 p.m., and were almost matching in their attire—jeans, light grey pullover sweaters, tennis shoes—but Mr. Ingersoll chose to keep a dark blue baseball cap perched upon his head. The pub, along with most other drinking establishments in the downtown area, was packed with locals trying to escape the political madness, Democratic presidential campaign staffers, and the countless volunteers arriving from all corners of the United States for a last-ditch get out and caucus push.
A local haunt, and premier purveyor of English food and spirits, the Royal Mile was decorated with flags from Wales and Scotland, the trusty Union Jack on the opposite wall of the flags above the bar—it had the feel of a “real” English pub, American accents and political conversations aside.
“Did you see the latest polls?” asked one middle-aged campaign volunteer, overcome with excitement, his wild flailing leading to most of his beer being donated to the already sticky floor.
“If this holds, we can count this one in the bag for us...
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