"Hello, we are 21. Would you like more proof?"

Sometimes, I am a little overzealous with my ID, and this makes 20-year-old Sonia concerned.

Dan and Sonia (of "Rome Trip" fame) came to visit me yesterday as a sort of last hurrah. Since I'd just seen Dave and Marlena the day before, I felt like quite the social butterfly.

We found a pretty swank frenchie place to eat. I knew it was swank because the mood lighting was so bad you couldn't read the menu without holding it directly up to the candle. This might have ended in hilaritragedy if the menus weren't laminated. I can only assume they learned from experience. Another notable thing about the place is that the men's room was wallpapered with softcore porn, and the women's room was wallpapered with pin-up girls.

Haha, I typed "pun-up girls." This sounds like the best idea ever. Jeeves, take a letter!

After getting cupcakes, we nabbed a six-pack from Duane Reed and wandered through Washington Square park looking for somewhere to drink it. Hilaritragedy finally struck.

A man dressed (to use the word loosely) in grey with pretty much stereotypical 30s hobo trappings (bindle, tattered hat) who would have been delightful if he hadn't actually interacted with us approached and began discharging gibberish and spittle. We eventually determined that he wanted a sip of our "fuggin' beer." Dan politely explained that it was our beer. Then he became belligerent, so Dan gave him one to avoid a scene. He eyed it suspiciously, then asked "S'at poison?" I explained that it was sealed, and that we were drinking the same beer, so it was unlikely at best.

He tottered off, and once the initial shock wore off I was actually kind of glad to have had a true New York experience on my penultimate night. Which isn't to say that the hobo was all that different from some people I know after a night of drinking, but something about his gait led me to believe that he had more than just Blue Moon in his system.

Upon his return, he asked us if we had any daughters who would be willing to engage in impolite actions with fifty-year-olds. When we said no, he spat at us, then was never heard from again.