So Lena and I went to Chili’s last night. I wasn’t super-hungry, but I was sure thirsty, and Chili’s does 2-4-1 draft beer pretty late. I got carded, and didn’t have my license on me. As was appropriate, they refused me the beer, and we left, looking for another, less well policed, restaurant.
The point here is not that I forgot my wallet, or that the one thing I really wanted was the one thing they wouldn’t give me. It isn’t even that I got carded, exactly.
It’s that a twenty-three year old waitress thought my forty-one year old ass looked young enough to check for ID. WOOT!