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.