Courtesy of Buzzed Photography

After indulging in endless mimosas and a shrimp, tomato, and feta omelette, Elizabeth navigated us to the apartment complex where my dad lived after 9/11. As we walked through the streets of the Lower Eastside, the five of us sang songs. And it made lots of people smile, mostly men. Probably because of my buzz, I contemplated doing a cartwheel at one of the many crosswalks we walked, but I was afraid that I would split my skinny jeans, so decided against it. If only I was wearing yoga pants. I also contemplated stopping to get my tattoo but a) it would have taken hours to complete and b) I'm going swimming at the end of March.

My buzz inspired some classic photos, though. Don't worry, I'll put my portfolio together soon. I snapped pictures of American flags swaying in the wind, a dad at the park with his two boys, buildings, graffiti, business signs, and a man in a NY hat standing on the subway. Once I get home, I'll download some of them so you can see.

I also discretely took a picture of the homeless man that I gave money to. He was young, about my age, wearing a John Deere hat and a ratty old coat. He had a plastic cup with nothing but coins inside. Embraced in his arms was a black lab, gray hair peppering his snout. The dog was quiet, but his eyes were so expressive. Just like Rex's eyes. A cardboard sign in front of the pair read, "I've lost everything but my best friend."

Elizabeth and I have talked several times this trip about the homeless and their dogs. We have come to the general consensus that despite their circumstances, we're happy for the companionship a dog brings. It gives a man or woman someone to talk to, to live for, to provide for.  If Brad and I were ever to become homeless, I'd want Rex in our cardboard corner.  No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Megan, Elizabeth, Rachel, and Lawler, were several strides ahead of me when I reached into my purse to grab my wallet. I debated whether to put some money in the man's clear solo cup and eventually decided to go for it. I dropped a five on top of the small layer of change he had collected. And after I gave him some money, several others followed suit.

For the rest of the night, I missed Rex and Brad. I missed watching how the two of them often cuddled similarly to this man and his dog. As I thought about the warmth Rex provides me, I smiled. This man has it bad, but it could be worse. He could have lost his best friend when he lost everything else.

I wonder what the two of them were doing as I knocked back mimosa after mimosa at the trendy brunch bar earlier that day. Maybe they were sleeping in Central Park, maybe they were at a soup kitchen, maybe they were hiding from the cops, or maybe they were still sitting next to the mailbox and large pile of trash bags in front of the Pizza Hut Express that sits just a block away from the National Debt Clock. 17,515,789,486,297.