Thursday, 6:30 p.m., sitting at a booth in the food car:
Man with briefcase, aged 40 or so, already grey: Do you mind if I sit here?
Student wearing headphones and working on computer: Sure.
Man, knowing the answer to his question already: Is your sweatshirt Poor People’s Pub New Hampshire or Block Island?
Student: Block Island.
Man: No way! I’m going there this weekend. We have a house near town hall.
Student: Oh, no way. I’m actually going there, too.
Man: Have you been?
Student: I work there in the summer.
Man: Great place. We always get a house the last weekend or so in September. I’ve been going since I was 17, and I always do the same thing: get hammered and stumble to the beach.
Student: Oh, sick. Just like everyone else.
Man: Yeah, we got a house there for the weekend; I’m pumped. Also I’m not going to drink this whole bottle of wine by myself. Do you want a cup?
Student: Sure.
Man: That island is just a small pile of cocaine.
Student: Oh, is it now.
Man: I’ve got the little one, so I probably won’t be getting up to anything except drinking. You can drink when you have a little one – just be prepared to get up at 6 a.m., haha. Mhm… yeah I probably won’t do any drugs.
Student: Yeah, you probably shouldn’t, you know, because you have the little one.
Man: I will drink though.
Student : The little one will love that.
Man: Here’s a picture of the little one; she loves the ocean. We get a house on Block Island every year.
Student: You keep saying “we.” Who is “we?”
Man: Me and friends. And the little one.
Student: How old is the little one?
Man: Three.
Student: Will she ever work on the island?
Man: Oh, no no no. I know what goes on there.
Student: Oh yes. Lest the little one get hammered on the beach and mess around with drugs.