Wednesday, February 22, 2006

mistaken identity

We went for a yummy dinner last night at La Taqueria on 7th Ave. Chris loves the beans. And the fresh guacamole they mush up, tableside.
They have a Tuesday night special that gets you a free drink if you flash your Brooklyn ID. Neither Chris nor I have Brooklyn ID as of yet, so I kind of meekly tried to get our waitress to swing us the special anyway. Denied. Then a table full of serious Brooklynites, accents and all, sat adjacent to us, and one of them, an old man with a white, thinning pageboy, a beard and one of those little captain/conductor's hats all the hipsters are wearing, was unable to produce ID. I had to crane my neck a bit to hear what the verdict would be: our waitress told him not to worry about it. We didn't really hold it against her. The guy could have been the king of Brooklyn, and we could just as easily live in Jersey.

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