Cut to the Bronx, where AJ and Devin have arrived at the address Meadow gave them. And yes, it is a really bad neighborhood. Devin isn't quite sure they're in the right place. "Columbia?" she wonders. "This is, like, Harlem." Oh, okay. Heh. Because, you know, Columbia actually is in Harlem. ["Well, technically it's in Morningside Heights, but…same difference." -- Sars] The driver corrects them by explaining it's the Bronx, which I already told you, and then AJ spots a sign for the legal center where Meadow works. They slowly climb out of the car, and as AJ begs the driver not to leave without them, Steve Buscemi provides us with an ominous shot of their reflection in the car's tinted windows.
Inside the law center, Meadow quickly comes out to meet them. She's dressed in a very businesslike suit, and seems quite proud to be able to utter the immortal big sister line, "When did you get taller than me?" AJ neglects to introduce Devin, so Meadow has to do it herself, and then AJ pulls her aside for a private conversation. After mocking her for hanging out with the great unwashed on a Friday night, AJ proceeds to ask for permission to use her room for what he so charmingly refers to as, "Um, you know." Meadow is just as disgusted by that idea as any respectable sibling would be, and flat-out refuses to let him get busy in her bed. And thank God. I don't even like to imagine my sister kissing a guy, never mind having sex in my own bed. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, my sister is the only twenty-eight-year-old virgin left in America who's never been cast on a reality show. And no, you can't have her phone number. Meadow is disappointed, because she thought the three of them were going to be all snooty and go into the city to see her friend's poetry reading, and blah blah shut-up-Meadow-cakes. "The greatest cultural center in the world," she chides AJ, "and you came here for sex?" Well, yeah. What's wrong with that?
Later, AJ and Devin are cruising around in the back of their hired car. They're having one of those conversations where really stupid people espouse their really pretentious thoughts about really boring sociological phenomena they know nothing about. So I'll spare you the details. Just assume it was really boring on the surface, and yet bitingly ironic in the subtext. Anyway, AJ's whole point is that he's lucky to be rich, because one of his friends lives in a house with five people, and -- gasp -- no dining room! Devin agrees, but looks guilty for doing so.