We talked at breakfast, arguing politics, healthcare, the economy. Dozens of people nursed coffees, poked their eggs, and gazed out the window at the water. Families waiting for a seat paced outside, while the hostess scribbled name after name. Kids ran between their parents’ legs, teen-agers smoked, uncles sighed, ailing mothers whimpered, bums curled in their sleeping bags, planes flew, birds begged, dogs emerged from the water trailing bubbles, neighbors nodded or avoided, tourists crumpled newspapers. And one old man, who lifted his cane to reverently unfurl the American flag that the wind had whipped tightly around its post, shook his head at all of us.