Life on the presidential campaign trail is, by most accounts (except perhaps Donald Trump’s), a typically unglamorous and exhausting affair. Constant traveling on cramped buses and planes; an endless array of speeches and rallies; commiserating with people you barely know; incessant media attention—it's all so much pressure. A good breakfast, then, would seem to be a vital ingredient in at least maintaining the semblance of energy throughout the day. We know from interviews that Donald Trump prefers to skip breakfast—which may account for his erratic, late-night tweeting style (just a guess)—or if he should indulge, that he likes bacon and eggs or cornflakes “right out of the fields of Iowa,” as he told Fox News back in February. Hillary Clinton’s ideal morning involves some combination of scrambled eggs and yoga. Jill Stein, it's safe to assume, won't eat anything with the letters G, M or O in it. But what do Libertarians eat? Non-FDA-approved steak and eggs? The Bill of Rights? Ayn Rand’s skin cells?

None of the above, it turns out. Apparently, campaign life for Libertarian vice-presidential candidate Bill Weld, on the ticket with the bungling Gary “Aleppo” Johnson, is particularly unglamorous. In an interview with Molly Ball of The Atlantic, over coffee and buffet breakfast at a Manhattan Holiday Inn, Weld sprinkled salt and pepper onto a sad steam-tray Western omelette on the morning after the debate from which his party was excluded, proceeding to explain his embarrassment about staying at the ubiquitous motel chain—but at $110 or so a night, the price was right. (Not bad, as Donald Trump put it— in a tweet, no less—of his night at an Indianapolis Holiday Inn this past April.) 

Despite the mildly depressing image Ball paints of Weld’s breakfast, the combination of peppers, ham, onions and eggs is certainly a hearty one, and no doubt serves him well on the trail, as he works triage in the wake of Gary Johnson’s recent gaffes. Weld can only hope that the pork in that omelette won’t make him as ham-handed as his running-mate.