... for actually carding me tonight as I picked up a bottle of Pinot Grigio (which Maria needed for her excellent chicken dish -- pics to come).
I'm sure some of you can relate. For most of my 20s, I was annoyed by the request. Dude, don't I look like I'm over 21? You're really gonna make me fish out my driver's license?
Ten years later, I'm 33 -- and now, of course, I welcome the intrusion. Of course, now that white strands have taken up permanent residence in my facial hair, the I.D. check has become increasingly rare. (At least the picture on my drivers' license is 22-year-old me.)
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