We sit in the back of Sneaky Dees on Bathurst. I am after some beer and I look at a chalkboard on the wall nearby that lists the draught selection and prices. It is cheap - that's good. The selection isn't stellar, but, given it is a rare circumstance in this day and age that you can drink two pints for under ten dollars - as will indeed be the case tonight here at Sneaky Dees on Bathurst - you don't nitpick. You just put-down-the-money-shut-up-and-drink-it. It's pretty straightforward. So, we wait for the server to come along and take our order and that is as complex as seems things will need be.
So the server comes along.
-Hi how you doing.
-Good how are you.
-What can I get you to drink.
It is Buzz Ale I want. Supposedly Buzz is made from hemp, which makes it really hipster and edgy and badass. And cheap. The cheapest, actually.
-Yeah alright I'll be right back.
She goes.
-So anyway
She's back. No beer though.
-You guys have your IDs please.
I'm 32. Fine - so I just turned 32. The point is, technically I have been of legal drinking age in this province for thirteen years. Thirteen. A decent chunk of time. And here I am being carded by a girl who's herself only probably barely legal. It's awkward, but I do want that Buzz beer. Luckily I actually thought to bring my driver's license along tonight. You would think that after turning, I don't know, let's say 30 you would finally be allowed the dignity of drinking freely without suspicion of whatever it is they suspect potential minors at bars and pubs to be trying to get away with. You would think. But here we are - 32. Apparently the greying hair and crows feet make my years difficult to ascertain. Are kids getting uglier these days?
Whatever, so, I give her the driver's license. I guess I must roll my eyes or sigh or something. I suppose it's something about handing over my particulars when I'm not answering to official authority. She goes away again. Comes back in a minute with the Buzz hemp beer. There is this weird vibe now - she's got some kind of attitude, didn't appreciate my fully justifiable and dutifully subdued put-outance. She sets the beer down.
-Yeah you know so the thing is you have to have ID in here after 9pm, that's just the rule they have. ID after 9.
She leaves. Benefit of the doubt: this server girl is harrassed by a superior to be really strict about people having ID. I get it. It's lame, but I get it.
So we're drinking Buzz beer in the back of Sneaky Dees on Bathurst and it's a good thing I have my ID card because the rule is you have to have it after 9.
It's 7:15pm.
Is this really your most recent post!? I was hoping to read something witty - either some of your fiction or maybe a well-written piece about a movie icon. Geez, Chuck, get on it...!
ReplyDeleteI too suffer through the embarrassing ritual of being carded well into my 30s. Some people say consider it a blessing. But really it's just something that will continue to annoy me well into my forties. If the IDer is young, when they say "Do you have ID?" I I usually say, "Do YOU?" They're just watching their ass and I'm just being an ass, but sometimes being an ass feels good.