Kurt and Blaine are just parking the car outside Scandals. The look of the place is perfect -- low-slung brick building, no windows, out-of-the-way spot. Kurt's worried that his Hawaiian driver's license doesn't even look like him. Blaine: "Don't worry, mine says I'm 38. They'll work." You guys, this totally reminds me of the first time I went to a gay bar, when I was 18. It was in Rochester, New York, on Liberty Pole Way. I had borrowed an ID from a college friend who was also going. We looked enough alike that we figured nobody would notice. But the drag queen working the door was writing down the name and birthdate of every person who entered the bar. So even though I came in two people after him, she immediately realized that one of us was a fake, and she reached back into the bar and grabbed him. And then she played with us like a cat with a couple of mice for about ten minutes, hemming and hawing about what a bizarre coincidence it was that two guys with the same name and the same birthdate just happened to come to the bar at the same time. But eventually she took pity on a little twink and let us in. God bless you, unnamed Rochester drag queen. God bless you.