A reporter covering the president's trip to Indiana this week said Mr. Obama was visiting the heartland in part to get out of the presidential bubble. I'm sure this was true. Presidents always get to the point where they want to escape Washington, and their lives, and their jobs. But they never can. Because when you're president and you go to Indiana, you take the bubble with you. Your bubble meets Indiana; your bubble witnesses Indianans. But you don't get out of the bubble in Indiana. Once you're in the bubble—once you're in the midst of a huge apparatus, once you have the cars and the aides and the security and the staffers—there is no getting out of it.

You cannot shake the bubble. Wherever you go, there it is. And the worst part is that the army of staff, security and aides that exists to be a barrier between a president and danger, or a president and inconvenience, winds up being a barrier between a president and reality.

You lose touch with America and Americans in the bubble, no matter who you are, or what party. This accounts for some of the spectacular blunders presidents make.

Because of the bubble, successful presidents have to walk into the presidency with an extremely strong sense of the reality of their country. In time, with the wear and tear of things, this sense of How Things Really Are may dissipate, disappear or remain stable, but it won't get stronger. It never gets stronger. High political office is like great affluence: It detaches you. It separates you from normal life.

Once you're president, you're not going to be able to change the features on your famous face; you're not going to be able to escape security, grab a fishing rod, and go sit on the side of a river waiting for normal Americans to walk by, settle in, fish with you, and say normal American things, from which you will garner insights into what normal Americans think.