" Do I Gotta WHUH?!?"

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.

"Okaayyy..."

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.

Why?

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???

Slainte, Folk!

CVygnus