An attendee drives a painted car before a campaign event for Donald Trump in Albany, N.Y., on Monday.John Taggart/Bloomberg
On a recent rainy afternoon in Albany, N.Y., Cheryl Pollock and Elizabeth Forschmidt stood in a line with thousands of fellow voters waiting for the chance to see Donald Trump in person.
The pair, both in their 70s, had travelled from nearby Saratoga Springs and stood out with their "Women for Trump" signs. "Women are sick and tired of wimpy men," Ms. Forschmidt explained. "We want a leader."
"We want a strong person who will take care of our country," Ms. Pollock added, leaning in to make her point. "He's going to protect us from the radical Muslims."
The line began to move, snaking down a side street and around the front of the Times Union Center, the venue for the rally. A group of protesters had gathered behind a police barricade. As the crowd filed in to the stadium, Mr. Trump's supporters and detractors engaged in a running verbal skirmish.
"Dump Trump! Dump Trump!" a protester yelled.
"Food stamps are over! Get to work, you fat pig!" a man in line retorted.
"America loves gays! America loves transgenders!" a protester called out.
"Build the wall! Build the wall!" two young men shouted.
Such is the uneasy mixture of anger and excitement at Mr. Trump's events. It wasn't clear whether some of his supporters were spoiling for a fight or simply jacked up to see a celebrity – the kind of celebrity who might do or say something outrageous.
No one I spoke with had ever been to a rally by a presidential candidate before. Indeed, none could remember a candidate making a stop in Albany, the capital of New York State. But the unpredictability of this year's race has turned New York State's April 19 primary into an important contest – especially in the vast stretches of the state beyond New York City, where voters are more conservative and jobs scarcer.
"Everyone's leaving our area; people can't find work," said Chester Klobukowski, an 83-year old retired police officer who lives just outside Albany. For years, the two major political parties have "picked the candidates that are best for them and not for us. We're sick of it."
Inside the arena, the attendees sported variations of the American flag – emblazoned on bandanas, T-shirts, baseball caps, even a red-white-and-blue feather boa. There were students from the nearby State University of New York at Albany, retirees, veterans, nurses, families with young children. The crowd was overwhelmingly white.
Before the main event, a former contestant from Season 2 of The Apprentice, Mr. Trump's reality television show, warmed up the crowd. "He is larger than life," she promised. "You're going to get exactly what you wanted. He is going to command this room."
Mr. Trump took to the stage to the thumping beat of 2 Unlimited's Get Ready For This. He declared his love for New York, for Albany, recalling with fondness and disbelief how his business once brought him to the halls of state government.
"I used to come up and say, 'I need this approval, I need that approval,'" Mr. Trump said. "Now, I'm on their side. I'm a politician. I can't believe it!"
Mostly, Mr. Trump was angry – angry at the media ("so dishonest, so one-sided, so disgusting"), angry at trade with China ("It's the single greatest robbery in the history of the world"), angry at his would-be Democratic opponent, Hillary Clinton ("Everybody knows that she is guilty as hell, okay? Her whole life has been a big, fat, beautiful lie").
He was especially irate with anyone who might work to deny him the Republican nomination. "It's a crooked, crooked system," he said, lacing into Republican Party officials in Colorado, where the state's delegates were awarded to U.S. Senator Ted Cruz of Texas.
When protesters would hold up signs, or chant, or boo, Mr. Trump gamely waited for them to be removed, enjoying the spectacle. "Don't hurt him," he called out, stepping back from the podium and waving his arms. "It's a shame. But it does make it exciting."
At points, Mr. Trump didn't seem to want it to end. He kept promising more, as if he couldn't stop. No country was going to mess with the United States again, ever; instead, countries would start writing "the biggest, fattest, most beautiful cheques you've ever seen" in exchange for U.S. military protection. The government would start balancing its budget, wars would be won and the border wall would be beautiful.
"You're going to be so proud of your country if I get in," he said. "We're going to win so much, at every level."
On the way out, I ran into Ms. Pollock, who was flushed with excitement. "He is absolutely incredible," she said. "He gives us hope."