NJ reporter Ben Terris took a trip to Zolfo Springs, Fla. to go boar hunting with Rep. Dennis Ross (R-Fla.) and things got a little, well, bloody. He began, “It’s 7:30 a.m., and already the congressman and I are covered in blood.”
Terris reported that blood trickled out of a gash in his head — an injury that eventually landed him in the ER. But for now, he wrote, “The lingering buzz from the predawn whiskey shot helps.”
The reporter felt compelled to learn more about Ross since his publication had ranked him among the top 10 conservative members of Congress. “You should come boar hunting with me sometime,” Ross had told him a few weeks prior.
Ross leaned forward in his seat to size up my multicolored socks, my oversized glasses, my untamed hair. “Of course, if it makes you more comfortable, we can donate all the meat to a food bank,” he said. It was a diplomatic gesture. If Ross had overestimated how much I might object to killing an animal for sport, I could forgive him. In Washington, people tend to rely on signals to get a sense of each other: party affiliations, voting records, socks. Subtleties get lost. I started thinking that the only way to really understand Dennis Ross would be to join him in his natural habitat.
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