Mitt pulled tight the bright red tie; it shimmered in the lights of the mirror. Red, his advisors told him, showed strength, power, and best of all, it fit the color of the Republican Party. In a few moments, he would step into the waiting area before the start of the first debate of the general election, and for a few moments, would share it with the President. Since the start of campaign season, Mitt had never spoken to the President in person, and was eager to face off his opponent. Still, Mitt was anxious and low on confidence as possibly one of the greatest moments of the campaign season rapidly approached.
Months of preparing led up to this moment. Hours had been spent picking out the color of his tie, preparing him with mock debates, and even prepping him on appropriate facial reaction to certain questions and "zingers." It had been a long road, one steeped with a tough primary season of Rick Perrys and Herman Cains. But he was ready.
Swirling around him, dozens of aids buzzed about tried to throw in last minute information; reminders, talking points, adjustments to his suit and hair. Finally, Mitt held his hand up, signaling that it was time. At this point, it wasn't up to whether he had a good line in his back pocket or whether his tie was just so, it was up to him. He walked down the hallway towards the waiting room. Atop the final doorway, a sign that was ceremonially at every campaign stop for the Romney campaign. "Clear Eyes Full Hearts Can't Lose." Mitt stopped, reaching his hand up to touch the sign, soaking in the last moment before the first true test of this election season. He turned around, kissed his wife one last time, and opened the door.
The audience buzzed from the other side of the curtain, the bright flashes and lights of the TV cameras were apparent, even through the thick black cloth. Mitt was nervous, a small pit forming in his stomach as he awaited the arrival of the President. Suddenly, a whoosh as the door from the other side of the stage opened, in walked the President, trailed by three service men. Mitt, solemn and serious in what would be a defining moment in this election, was surprised by the candor of the President. "Mitt, so glad to see you how are you doing?" The President, almost laughing, gripped Mitt's hand in a firm shake. "How're the kids?" Mitt was surprised; did the President know where he was? Maybe this was all some sort of mind game, but Mitt didn't sense that. He genuinely sensed that the President did not have a full grasp on how important this night was. Was this some sort of joke to him?
After talking for a few moments, the signal was given that the two candidates should take their places on the opposite sides of the stage. Mitt, after seeing the candor of the President, was disheartened. Was he not a serious competitor to this President, did Barack not think he stood a chance? His eyes furrowed as the names were announced, in his head, he knew that if the President was not going to take him seriously before this debate, he sure as hell would after it.
Lights raised, clapping started and Mitt walked out onto the stage, a grin spread across his face. After the waving, the moderator Jim Lehrer started with a two-minute opening statement from each candidate. The President, in possibly the easiest moment of the debate, tripped over his words. Just that one stumble and Mitt knew, this was all over. The President was not playing a mind game with him, he was truly not prepared and did not know the gravity of the night. Mitt smiled in his head, his face remaining completely serious. He launched into his opening statement, well rehearsed, even adding a person story involving a woman at a campaign stop. The President shuffled, his eyes glued to the podium clearly distraught. Mitt looked at the President, and for a brief moment, they made eye contact before the President's eyes drifted to where they would stay for the remainder of the debate, at the floor. In that moment, Mitt saw something, not confidence, not seriousness, but something much deeper than that. Fear.