And, you REALLY wanna see it???
"An i.d. ,sir."
"Um, I do [have an ID]..."
Now, admit it. You have to know I was smiling at this point, being all of thirty-something. Okay, forty. Two. [Aw, all right!!! Near forty-three! Damnit, man!!! :D]
"I need to see it, please."
Huh. 'Sir' and 'please'. Not in Kansas anymore... Or, uh, Texas, case being.
And we're ALL smiling more profoundly at this juncture, n'est-ce pas?
Now, I realise one of the extra tip-earning tricks in the wait-person trade is to execute this tactic on those you are more than near certain are legal age, yet vibrant and glowing. But... this were a convenience store. And I am, and look, all of better that twenty-one. So...
Yes, je comprends it is la ley. And should be done regardless. But, when an octo-genarian walkers [Hiya, Kitten!!! :D] in for a tw'ack [twelve-pack for you tea-toalers out there], do we really needs require proof of legality to self-intoxicate?
Yup, we do.
Because!! Because how many times over twenty-five have you been asked, been i.d.'d??
Okay; how many times would you have liked to? How many times have I jokingly asked, at the counter, "How come I never get ID'd any more?" Sure, with a smile on my face, but longingly none the less...
Anyhow, how many of you got a blogpost out of a beer-run c'est soir?
And are smiling, regardless?
Huh huh how many, eh???
Le Moniteur de la Mode, January 1853
1 day ago