Speaking of winging shit, Yangs pep talk in Grinnell isnt quite the stuff of General Patton.

Its freakin caucus day! he cries, giving a slight shimmy of the hips (like a young Elvis) as the room of volunteers erupts with applause. Explaining the value of each and every caucusgoer, Yang says all the good vibes and well-wishes mean nothing without turnout on the ground.

My phones blowing up, everyones like, Good luck, Andrew, good luck! And you know what Im sending back to them? Shut up and call somebody. The crowd laughs. Dont text me. Text an Iowan, dumbass. Louder, rolling laughter. Thats what Im saying to them all.

My phones blowing up, everyones like, good luck, Andrew, good luck! And you know what Im sending back to them? Shut up and call somebody. Dont text me. Text an Iowan, dumbass.

- Andrew Yang

Yang tries to turn serious. You all know where the rubber hits the road. You know this is where the action is. Every call, every door-knock, every face-to-face convo, every little old lady you help to the caucus site He starts to crack up. Every shuttle brought in He cant stop giggling. I was going to make another joke. Spurred on, he says, Every unwilling person you knock unconscious and drag to the caucus site. He struggles against the heaving of his chest. If you prop them up, and make them seem like theyre conscioushe can barely finisheach one of those people

His staff is laughing, too, but theyre also a tad mystified, trading looks. Theyve never seen such a goofy side in public. Do we need to go? Graumann shouts from the back of the room.

After regaining his composure and giving a few parting words of inspiration, Yang says hell stick around for selfies and autographs. After all the work these people have done on his behalf, the candidate wants to reward them. As the room envelops him, Yang is bouncing on the soles of his black shoes, Eye of the Tiger banging from a stereo.

Yang is a positive person. He has a stillness about him, a composure that makes him both easy to admire and hard to analyze. Its clear that he tries to see the good in people and situations, guarding against the tilting of his equilibrium. Whats unclear is whether theres anything hes holding onto, regrets or grievances that he refuses to let show. Its impossible to run for president and not walk away with scars; I want to know where his wounds are and how he came by them.

As we talk, cruising eastbound on Interstate 80, it becomes evident there is one injury nagging at Yang: the medias treatment of his campaign.

The slights have been large and small, significant and symbolic. Most recently there was CNBCs egregious error, straight out of a sketch comedy skit, of showing a random Asian mans photo on a graphic explaining the candidates fundraising numbers. I laughed, he says with a shrug, thinking itd be good for us, because it was so dumb we might get a news cycle out of it.

He snorts, shoveling a fingerload of Cheez-Its into his mouth. As the days have gotten longer, and the sleep has gotten scarcer, and the germs have gotten nastier, the weary candidate finds himself constantly in need of two things: snacks and hand sanitizer.

Turning back to the CNBC screw-up, he rolls his eyes. That one I chalk up to incompetence. Others have been more deliberate in their bias.

There was the time he gave a major policy speech that went completely uncovered. The time MSNBC referred to him as John Yang. The time he was congratulated by other campaigns for outshining his opponents at a cattle call, only to get zero mention in the national write-ups. The countless times he was omitted from fundraising charts on cable news despite having outperformed some of the candidates displayed.

And dont get him started on the debates. Stats dont lie: Yang has notched the least amount of speaking time in nearly every one of the televised events in which hes participated.

Thats the thing that really got to me, Yang explains. I think POLITICO was fair in giving me an even number of questions. But in a lot of themthose two MSNBC hostedit felt like they were trying to marginalize me. Im standing up there and I just cant shake the feeling that theyre trying to ignore me. I would see the cameras panning toward me, because theyre supposed to ask me a question, and the moderator audibles and redirects it to someone else. Its like, What did I do to these people?

Evelyn has a theory. She has spent much of the morning buried in a book, Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive. Its about the working poor, she says, and how they have no power or political influence. Its the same thing, she says. Andrews plans are all designed to help the poor and the working poor, but we dont talk about those plans, because those people arent a constituency for CNN or MSNBC.

Her husband agrees. Its easy to dismiss himthe futuristic Asian man, he jokesbecause its easy to dismiss his trademark proposal: Universal Basic Income, a.k.a. Yang Bucks.

By giving every adult citizen $1,000 per month, Yang believes, the U.S. government could eradicate poverty and close the income-inequality gap that has come to define the Democratic Partys modern mission. The problem is, such a gimmick-sounding plan is unprecedented in the sweep of American presidential campaigning, and thus goes ignored or poorly covered by a media apparatus that has little patience for policies that are alien and unconventional.

As frustrating as this has been for Yang, he can already see the upside. Just as Medicare for All was considered kooky less than a decade ago, only to become mainstream in 2020, he believes Universal Basic Income will soon be standard fare in platforms across the political spectrum. The proof is in the numbers, he says. The last poll I saw showed 53 percent of Iowans support the idea. At my last count, five other candidates have expressed openness to it. Its most popular among young people, who obviously arent going anywhere. And even on a lot of people on the right are conceptually open to it, because conservatives arent afraid of putting money in peoples hands; theyre afraid of big bureaucracies spending that money for them.

As with any big idea, Yang understands its first great advance might be sacrificial in nature. I know that even if I dont win, he says, this idea is going to win.

Some of them didnt know what MATH stands for, Evelyn Yang tells her husband, a grin tugging at her lips.

Theres a lot of people who still dont know, Andrew responds. Kinda funny.

It is funny. The acronym plastered all over Yangs shirts and hats and campaign signs MATH stands for Make America Think Harder. Its a clever take on the presidents signature catchphrase, but in a twist of predictable irony, many people, including Yangs own supporters, think the candidate is simply promoting academics, or perhaps even humble-bragging that his success in life owed to a talent for arithmetic.

Back on the campaign bus after a boisterous get-out-the-vote event in Iowa City, the Yangs dive into disposable boxes of Mediterranean food: chicken kabobs, falafel patties, grilled vegetables and fluffy pita bread. Humored as they are by the MATH stories, its easy to understand the confusion for some observers of his candidacy. Between Yang and his virtual gang, there are so many slogans and memes and catchphrases its hard to keep up. Hes got signs that say, Not Left. Not Right. Forward. His campaign offices are adorned in wall-sized $1,000 bills bearing his likeness. Theres that title of his book, which has become a rallying cry all its own. His favorite linethe opposite of Donald Trump is an Asian man who likes mathis the stuff of marketing genius.

And then theres his most provocative motto: Humanity First. Its another play off Trumpthis one jabbing the presidents refrain of America Firstand has caught on because of its layered implications. Yang preaches a brothers-keeper mantra that defies ideological definition, encouraging community and availability and interpersonal learning. He also clearly believes that all politics, and all government by extension, is negligent if it is failing to address the crisis of poverty, both at home and abroad.

What makes the message resonate is Yangs own humanity. He tells the story of his father growing up on a peanut farm with dirt floors in a way designed not to send electoral chills up your spine, but rather to remind everyone of Americas promise. His wife, Evelyn, came forward with a devastating story of being sexually assaulted not to engender support for her husbands candidacy but to use the platform shed been given to raise awareness and practice solidarity.

As we sit in the back of the bus, finishing lunch and talking about Yangs recent endorsement from God (@TheTweetOfGod) on social media, the candidate closes his eyes and falls into a deep slumber. Its not what anyone would expect from a candidate for president, riding along with a reporter on the biggest day of their political career, but it suits Yang just fine. Hes barely slept in the last month, crawling across Iowa mile by mile, shaking hands and snapping selfies and wishing he were with his kids. A little nap is long overdue. Hes human, after all.

Head against the interior wall of the bus, right leg crossed over his left, the candidates sleep is interrupted only by a string of raspy coughs, the remnant of a cold hes been fighting for weeks.

Aw, man, Yang mutters, eyes fixed on his iPhone.

What? Graumann asks.

Some guy says he voted for us at a satellite caucus, but we werent viable.

After two years spent on the road, sleeping in hotel beds and Facetiming with his young kids, Yang is beginning to feel the weight of caucus day bearing down on him. Weve just departed another pep rally with volunteers, this one in Davenport, and Yang is glued to his device, scrolling through Twitter for mentions of his campaign from analysts and caucus-goers. He says hes still not feeling any nerves, but the length of the day is agonizing. Too much time to wait. Too much time to wonder. Too much time to reflect.

It hit me the other day, Yang says, describing when he got teary-eyed on stage in Dubuque. All the conversations in Iowa, all the time Ive put in here, all the time my family has spent here, I realized that Monday is the last day Ill spend here.

In retrospect, its a small miracle he even made it to Monday.

Some of the early days when nobody was responding to me, when we wouldnt get a single donation from someone that I didnt personally know, that was hard, he recalls. But Im not someone to set out on this road, taking even a little bit of money from friends, and then stop what I started. There was never a thought of quitting.

Yang says this in the past tense. But now, hours from the first votes being tallied and delegates being assigned, quittingor, more delicately, bowing out gracefullyis a thought that cannot be ignored. Nobody has been discussing it out loud. There is no desire to speak a grim fate into existence. But the truth is, everyone knows Yang is not going to win the presidency in 2020. Not with five candidates polling in front of him. Not with Iowas strange set of rules, which mandate a 15 percent threshold for viability, making it harder to pull off an upset at the ballot box. And not even with the contest coming up in independent-minded New Hampshire, which Yang often touts as a better fit for his unorthodox candidacy.

But none of this means hes ready to quit. After escaping to write his caucus-night speech, Yang returns to the couch with a satisfied mien. Did he just construct a rhetorical masterpiece?

Nah, he grins. Its actually pretty lame. I wrote it to cover all scenarios.

Yang turns to his staff. Should I write one to give if I

If you shock the world? Graumann asks.

Yeah.

You wont need a speech if you shock the world, his campaign manager says. I want you to go up there and give us Yang Unchained.

Graumann pauses. Just no swearing. This is Iowa.

Yang is running on empty.

Its his fourth stop of the day, in Oskaloosa, and the candidates cough has gotten worse. Crowding into a small campaign office with some 50 volunteers, Yang launches into a version of the motivational speech hes been giving all day. Its slower, somewhat less edgy, if every bit as earnest.

People learn from, and are inspired by, other people, he says. People are not inspired by television commercials. If they were, Mike Bloomberg would be doing a lot better than he is.

After some chuckling, Yang continues, People are inspired when you knock on the door, when you pick up the phone, when you have a face-to-face conversation. Because thats the way were built as human beings. We see another human being that wants to share something important with us, and we cant help but listen.

Yang cant help but listen a few minutes later when Thomas Wu, a 27-year-old volunteer, explains how he wound up in his wheelchair. The 27-year-old Wu lives in Louisiana but relocated to Iowa a month ago to help Yangs efforts. While completing a marathon canvassing session just the day before, Wu slipped and fell on ice, shattering his kneecap.

Upon hearing this, the candidate looks equal parts dismayed and impressed. That is a battlefield injury, Yang says, slapping the youngsters back.

Yang gives a thumbs-up while posing for a photo with Thomas Wu. | Tim Alberta/POLITICO

When Wu declares that hell still be fulfilling his duties as a precinct captain tonight, Yang looks as though hes just heard a symphony.

Whether its the emotion or the sickness or the fatiguemost likely a combinationYang needs another break. Once aboard the bus, he collapses onto the couch. Baby needs a nap, he says to nobody in particular, pulling a blanket up to his chin and coughing himself to sleep.

Yang is awake but barely functional, his eyes open but trained on nothing in particular. After spending much of the day on his iPhone, monitoring social media for signs of whats to come tonight, he now appears immobilized. Its only when Graumann announces a FiveThirtyEight story that Yang snaps to attention: The nixed Des Moines Register poll from Saturday night, Graumann announces, showed Biden at just 14 percent.

Wait, what? Yang asks, sounding part-shocked and part-groggy.

Graumann and a few other staffers explain the reporting and its implications for Biden. Their candidate listens silently, then stands up, stretches, and heads to the bathroom. Several minutes later, having emerged and grabbed a fresh bag of fruit snacks, Yang sits back down and sighs.

It would make me really sad if Joe has a rough night, he says.

Why?

Yang shrugs. I like Joe.

The bus is rumbling into West Des Moines, where Yang will partake in the charming tradition of speaking to Iowans at an actual caucus site, making the case for his candidacy just as hundreds of surrogates are doing the same at locations around the state. But the preliminary reports Yang is getting from inside the high school gymnasium is discouraging: There are few uncommitted Iowans by his teams count, and his presence looks significantly smaller than those of rival campaigns.

Yang digests the information. Then he admits that his mind has begun to wander, contemplating all that might or might not unfold in the coming hours. Ive thought about the worst-case scenario and what it would mean; I think Im prepared for that, he says. And Ive thought about the best-case scenario and what it would mean. I think Im prepared for that, too.

Yang asks his team if there are additional updates. Told that no, not yet, he tells Graumann: Lets hear the song.

Moments later, the bus is ringing with Winds of Change by the Scorpions. Yang closes his eyes and leans back, head nodding along to the rhythm.

The world is closing in Did you ever think That we could be so close, like brothers The future's in the air I can feel it everywhere Blowing with the wind of change

Graumann walks past Yang and squeezes his candidate on the shoulder.

Proud of you, man.

The gym is packed with caucusgoers, but Yang is stuck on the bus. Hes not allowed inside until the doors are locked, at 7 p.m. These will be the longest seven minutes of his day.

Tossing a meatball in his direction, I ask Yang what hell tell his kids about running for president in America circa 2020. He turns deadly serious. You seem to be suggesting that things will be better by the time theyre older.

Wont they?

Im not optimistic at all, he shakes his head.

The question is, Yang continues, How will this society fare in an environment of unprecedented change, with a polarized government that is hopelessly behind the curve and unable to adapt in ways necessary to help them?

Yang has never been viewed as an ideologue, certainly not in the vein of Bernie Sanders or Elizabeth Warren. But hes gotten this far by hammering home a message that is just as unwavering as either of theirs: that software and automation are eliminating American jobs at a devastating rate, and that Washington lacks the competence and the leadership to respond.

It occurs to me, as he paints this grim picture of the future, that Yang is a true believer if ever there was one. He isnt peddling a far-flung theory for the sake of fame or Twitter followers; he feels convinced of every word hes saying, certain that hes a lone voice of sanity in a world gone mad. The thing about people like thisthe true believersis that they dont go away. Its easy to envision someone more prominent building on Yangs success in elections yet to come. But what about Yang himself? Is this campaign the end, or only just the beginning?

I certainly wouldnt rule it out, Yang says of another run. Weve got a list of millions of people. Weve got hundreds of thousands of donors. If I ran again, the probability of my success would be that much higher. So, why wouldnt I?

I certainly wouldnt rule it out, he says of another run. Weve got a list of millions of people. Weve got hundreds of thousands of donors. Plus, the national press would have to have us seriously next time. And the truth is, I like Iowa, I like New Hampshire. I like Americans. The prospect of doing this again is something Im very comfortable with. Id prefer to win now and start solving problems. The reason I ran was because I want to eradicate poverty. If I ran again, the probability of my success would be that much higher. So, why wouldnt I?

As Graumann cuts him off, advising on a strategic approach to conversations with caucusgoers inside the gymnasium, Yang looks back at me.

Im only 45, you know.

For the first time all day, Yang appears downcast.

He had wrung every last ounce of energy from himself inside the gymslapping hands, leading chants, running up the bleacher steps like Rocky Balboa. He had swaggered his way to the microphone, saluting the crowd with one arm raised, and given a solid speech, emphasizing the need to unite the party and the country around a forward-thinking agenda. He received a nice ovation, including from lots of Iowans wearing shirts and stickers with his opponents names.

Outside, hiking briskly with his small entourage through a barely lit parking lot, Yang sounds like a man whacked over the head with reality.

I wish we would have picked a location with more supporters. It was a liiiiiittle lonely in there, he says. I hope well be a lot of peoples second choices. But even then, how many people showed up here undecided about that? Probably a fraction of that crowd. I dont know.

Inside the bus, Yangs aides glue their eyes to CNN. Entrance poll numbers are rolling in, but still no results. The staffers banter about various statistics and what they might foretell, but the candidate barely seems to be paying attention. Hes looking toward the television, but not directly at it.

After a minute, Graumann shows Yang a tweet that should cheer him up: Hed finished ahead of Biden in one Des Moines precinct. Thats good, the candidate replied, gazing back off.

Getting back onto his iPhone after a few minutes of peace, Yang looks up. Thats not good, he tells the crew. I only got 7 percent in Grinnell. That means were not viable.

With voting underway, Yang and Chapman are glued to their phones. | Tim Alberta/POLITICO

Graumann and Chapman warn their boss not to read too much into any one result, any one report from any one precinct. But its too late. Yang is submerged into the dark world of Election Night Twitter, and soon so are they. The bus rolls along silently toward the Iowa Events Center in downtown Des Moines, the site of Yangs caucus celebration party. Many minutes go by before someone finally chirps up from the front of the bus: Can you turn the volume on?

The smartphone addicts in the back oblige, and we all listen to Wolf Blitzer trying to make sense of the situation on the ground in Iowa. Precincts across the state are well into their voting rituals, but thus far no official results are being reported. Its confusing to everyone, especially the novice politician and first-time presidential contender, who furrows his brow and turns back to his iPhone.

At last, something compelling on the television: Andrew Yang is on the cusp of viability, CNNs Jeff Zeleny reports from a Des Moines caucus site.

The candidate is intrigued, but its time to go. The bus is parked in the staging area behind the convention center and his staff have loaded up their computers and personal affects, preparing for a long night inside. The candidate takes his time ambling down the center aisle toward the front of the bus, giving fist-bumps to each member of his team. He walks down the stairs and inhales the icy February air, breathing heavily as he heads into the bowels of the building.

Directed to a steel-doored freight elevator, Yang steps inside and climbs two stories. His staff leads him to a medium-sized staging room, brightly lit and empty but for a table full of platters: fruits, vegetables, crackers, cheese. Mmm, he says.

Next door is the war room, where Yangs team is setting up a hub of laptops and television monitors. Hell get there eventually. For now, he needs time alone, time to rest and think. Before longan hour, maybe 90 minuteshell need to come into the main ballroom and greet his supporters with a caucus night speech. Whether its declaring victory or conceding defeat, Yang doesnt know. And he doesnt seem terribly concerned. Just tired.

I feel comfortable with a whole range of outcomes, he says, sidling up to the food trays, seeming concerned more with the selection of cheeses than with the returns being processed next door.

I can only laugh. Nothing more human, after 10 hours on the campaign trail, than being hungry. He laughs, too.

I remain hopeful that my relative normalcy is our key competitive advantage, Yang says.

Andrew and Evelyn Yang dance their way onto the stage, Return of the Mack blaring through the ballroom, a few hundred supporters cheering and clapping and dancing along with them.

It has been a most baffling nightfor Yang, for his team, for everyone else here and across Iowa. The states Democratic Party has experienced a staggering failure of its results-reporting system, which means none of the campaigns have any concrete idea of how they performed statewide.

Ive gotta say, Im a numbers guy. Were still waiting on numbers from tonight. Were all looking around, like, Whats the math? Whats the math? Yang joked with his audience.

No math means no winners, no losers, no narratives. Just spinninglots and lots of spinning, each candidate given carte blanche to define the night before the media could do it for them.

Yang is ideally suited to the task. Although its not clear yet, there are indications that his campaign underperformed expectations; and sure enough, within a few days, he'll learn that he won 5 percent of raw votes in the first allocation and just 1 percent of raw votes in the final allocation statewide, the very definition of the bad sixth place he feared on Monday morning.

Not that it matters right now. The #YangGang came to celebrate, and their leader isnt about to let them down. Describing how a field of 20 candidates has withered to seven who will be on the debate stage in New Hampshire on Friday (not counting his pal, Mike Bloomberg, of course), Yang declares that his campaign will move onward to New Hampshire and beyond.

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12 Wild Hours With Andrew Yang - POLITICO