I saw the future in a Cerritos IHOP

Pancakes, waffles, coffee ... and Connor Traut. The Buena Park vice mayor has something snappy going on.

So last night I drove the 45 minutes up to Cerritos, where I was asked to speak about The Truth OC in front of the Hubert H. Humphrey Democratic Club.

The event took place inside an IHOP.

Now, I hadn’t visited the chain in, oh, a decade or so. Back in the day, when my daughter and son were tykes in New Rochelle, N.Y., we’d hit up the local International House of Pancakes on the semi-regular. I recall a lovely waitress named Olympia. We built castles of sugar packets. We held blind taste tests with the bottles of table-top syrup. It was glorious and innocent and fun.

A political meet-up, though, oftentimes tends to be none of those things. Inside this IHOP, there were, oh, 30 attendees, all on one side of the restaurant, seated at tables. They were mostly club regulars, mixed in with some local officeholders. Of all the meetings I’ve participated in since starting this little venture, the Hubert H. Humphrey Democratic Club featured—hands down—the best scents. No close second. Pancakes. Maple syrup. Bacon.

I spoke for roughly 30 minutes. And, being honest, I sorta sucked. I couldn’t get a grasp of the crowd. Felt like I was bellowing into a bottomless pit. I was flat. Soulless. Meh. When one of the attendees began his question with, “So, since you seem to know everything …” I longed to vanish into the rug. I was Pete Filson starting on two days of rest. I didn’t have my good stuff, and it showed.

But then—he stepped up. The dude with the perfect hair. The dude with the blue jacket, brown slacks and dope-ass shoes. The dude with the energy.

Oodles of energy.

I had never heard the name Connor Traut before IHOP, but now the 31-year-old Buena Park City Council member (and vice mayor) exists on my radar in neon letters beneath the heading I WOULDN’T BE SHOCKED IF THIS DUDE WINDS UP GOVERNOR ONE DAY. Like me, he talked for about a half hour—and unlike me, bruh just owned the room. He was eloquent. Quick. Informed. Intelligent. He knew how to work the crowd without sounding like a hackneyed pol working the crowd. Even though the IHOP attendees leaned old-ish, it never felt as if Connor were patronizing or condescending. He seemed grateful to be there and happy to discuss any issue under the sun. He remembered names. Recalld details. It was majestic stuff.

Best of all, Connor’s got the resume you love in a rising star. He’s a local kid—born and raised Californian (check). He attended Chapman University, graduating with a bachelor’s degree in economics and political science, then scoring a law degree (check and check). He was 20-years old when he first became an elected school board trustee for the Centralia Elementary School District (check). He works as a consumer protection trial attorney (check), and serves as a board director for the Orange County Fire Authority (check) and as Vice Chair of the Boys and Girls Clubs of Greater Anaheim-Cypress (check). He’s married (check) to an elementary school teacher (check) who isn’t a Moms for Liberty wackadoo (triple check). He’s a dad (check) and owns two golden-doodles (a hair bougie on the dog front, but all good :) ).

Oh, and he can really speak …

During my Q&A session with club members, I was asked, in myriad ways, how they could woo younger voters. And … I dunno. Truthfully, it’s brutally hard. Phone banks? No. Mailings? Nah. Facebook posts from Grandma and Uncle Gerald? No. I shrugged and stammered and half baked my reply.

But in Connor Traut, I didn’t merely see a smart dude with some political savvy.

I saw an answer to the question.

Just maybe, the answer to the question.