Not so long ago, my pal and I went out for dinner. We were sitting at the bar, ordered some wine and heard this: “Can I see some I.D.?”
We burst out laughing.
“Don’t even start with that,” my friend said.
“Yeah. We could be your mothers,” I added. “If we were extremely young and irresponsible when we had you, but biologically, it is possible that we could be your mothers.”
“Seriously, ladies. I.D., please.”
“I guess this anti-sag cream is working better than I thought,” I said to my friend.
“Or he’s Ray Charles,” she said.
“Look,” the cute bartender said. “The law is this. Do I think you’re under twenty-one? No. But if I think you’re under twenty-six, I’m supposed to card you.”
“And you really think we’re under twenty-six?” my friend asked.
“I’d say closer to thirty, but I want to play it safe,” he answered.
My friend and I looked at each other, then back at the bartender. “I accept,” I said, handing over my license.
“You’re getting a huge tip,” my pal added.
You gotta hand it to that guy. He had us made the second we walked in the door. ; )
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