I still get carded occasionally.
Two summers ago when we were in Michigan I ran out to the store to get lighter fluid and and a lighter for the bbq. I forgot to bring my ID and when I told this to the cashier, the teen asked me, in all seriousness, if I was over 18. "I'm over 30 if it makes a difference," I told him. "No way..." he said, again, in all seriousness. I paused to gauge if he was for real. "Way," I told him. As I walked out with my lighter fluid I felt at once imbued with a youthful glee (he thought I was 18!) and an adult apprehension (shit, do I look and dress like an 18-year-old?!).
Over the weekend I was buying beer and was again carded at the register. The woman ringing me up looked at my ID, looked up at me, looked back at my ID and said, "you look like you could be my age." Oh great, here we go I thought. "Oh really," I said pleasantly, "how old are you?" "I be 30," she said with a nod of her head. "Okay..." I replied. "That's cool..."
30, huh? Must be having a second kid. My age seems to be catching up with me.
[painting: hope gangloff]