Stumper

Manchester, N.H.

AT 7:30 A.M., George W. Bush slides into a seat between two patrons at the counter of Blake’s Family Restaurant, leans close to the guy whose breakfast has just arrived, and asks, “What are we having?” Bush laughs and mugs for the cameras, as his new buddy nervously fingers his bacon. Then Bush stands up, grabs a cup of coffee, and bounces from table to table, saying over and over, “Thank you, appreciate it,” even when there is no reason for it. He stands over a woman wearing a Gore button, and she is soon surrounded by reporters. “Only in New Hampshire,” Bush remarks, “do you get to hold your own news conference.” Then he is in the kitchen, looking for hands to shake among the dishwashing and cooking equipment. In a few minutes, Bush is at another restaurant, where he ducks into the kitchen twice—once on arriving, once to say goodbye before leaving.

About the Author

Rich Lowry

Rich Lowry is the editor in chief of National Review.

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Manchester, N.H.

AT 7:30 A.M., George W. Bush slides into a seat between two patrons at the counter of Blake’s Family Restaurant, leans close to the guy whose breakfast has just arrived, and asks, “What are we having?” Bush laughs and mugs for the cameras, as his new buddy nervously fingers his bacon. Then Bush stands up, grabs a cup of coffee, and bounces from table to table, saying over and over, “Thank you, appreciate it,” even when there is no reason for it. He stands over a woman wearing a Gore button, and she is soon surrounded by reporters. “Only in New Hampshire,” Bush remarks, “do you get to hold your own news conference.” Then he is in the kitchen, looking for hands to shake among the dishwashing and cooking equipment. In a few minutes, Bush is at another restaurant, where he ducks into the kitchen twice—once on arriving, once to say goodbye before leaving.