I was almost in the door of the PetSmart when I realized that I had left my wallet at home -- I made sure to grab my iPod and my cell phone on the way out of my house, but apparently picking up my ID and means to pay for items was a low priority. Luckily, I keep one of those obnoxious little keychain credit cards just for these situations.
Grabbing the dog food was no problem, so I ran through the Seven Corners Safeway -- it's like a little slice of the Soviet Safeway I knew and hated so much during my time living in Dupont -- to pick up some fresh veggies to make a corn salad for a cookout we're headed to this afternoon. Then I thought, well, I should grab some beer to take along as well.
Naturally, when I went through checkout, the lady carded me.
"I don't have it with me," I said.
"I can't sell this to you, then," she said.
"Are you kidding?" I asked.
She was not. Now, I don't look anything like 21 years old. Neither do I look like 30, which is the age-appearance they claim to card for. I am, as I pointed out to the cashier, 39 frickin' years old.
And a half.
No dice. I left the store sans hops.
I'm all for being mistaken for younger and prettier and friendlier and smarter than I actually am. Unless, you know, it inconveniences me.