BARTLET: I'm not wild about Camp David.
C.J.: Yes, sir.
BARTLET: I'm not the only one, either. Bess Truman didn't like it. I read that somewhere. She thought it was dull. [pause] But there I go, Thanksgiving at Camp David.
BARTLET: [pause] It's not a place you go at Thanksgiving, not when you have a farm.
C.J.: Isn't Camp David a farm?
BARTLET: What makes you think it's a farm?
C.J.: I don't know, it's outside...
BARTLET: Farms have things you can grow, and animals.
BARTLET: I want you to learn more about farms.
C.J.: There's more?
C.J.: Okay. [rolls eyes]
BARTLET: Doesn't matter. Thanksgiving's where your family is, and this year my family's at Camp David. Why, I do not know. Abbey didn't wanna schlepp to New Hampshire. Schlepping in a 747. It's not like we were gonna have to carry our own bags or anything, but I do not argue.
...Were we talking about something?
C.J.: I don't know, sir. When I came in here, back in the late '50s, there was a purpose to it, but then one thing led to another and I blacked out. I mean, I can hang in there with the best of them, sir, but somewhere during the discussion of anise and coriander and the other 15 spices you like to use to baste a turkey, I simply lost consciousness.
BARTLET: You know that line you're not supposed to cross with the President?
C.J.: I'm coming up on it?
BARTLET: No-no. Look behind you.
C.J: Yes, sir.