Calling all Subjugate!

Yesterday my leading paramour and I ordered some alcoholic beverages at a tavern. The perky barmaid (who was at least our age, it should be noted) eyed my companion somewhat suspiciously.

"Do you have ID?"

My consort graciously fished through her purse, produced her California Driver's License and then handed it over. The server examined it closely. She then regarded my companion again, and then, somewhat incredulously, she returned to studying the license.

"Wow," she finally said, as she returned the license with a chipper smile. "You look really young."

(We are totally aware that servers will occasionally do this kind of thing to flatter patrons. Not only are we fully aware of this, but in general, we have become keenly attuned to all manner of phoniness. In other words, you cannot fool us, and she was totally not doing the thing.)

As you might expect, there were a few moments filled with aw-shucks false humility and did-she-really-mean-that, yes-she-really-did mental question/answers. The server scribbled in her pad.

I said, coyly, "If you don't ask to see my ID, I'll understand."

"M'Kay," she blurted, WAY too quickly, as she spun around and scurried off to the kitchen.

Optional Bonus Ending:

Later, at a different bar, not only did I not get "carded," but I actually ended up asking the doorperson and bartenders if I could see their IDs. That's how not-young I look. I was all, "Can I see your ID," to the staff at the bar. And they were all, "Yes."

Because I look so not-young.