Guys! Guys! It happened again! We were walking into the casino, and they had a whole bunch of new signage and the casino employee who usually sits by the wall just past the bridge from the parking garage was now posted right in the center of the path. Mr S-P walked past her and they just sort of nodded at each other as they made eye contact. She looked at me, and since she was new (at least, new to me, since she obviously wasn't the much older man with the Irish accent nor the 50-ish guy with the wavy hair that looks one step away from a mullet), she stopped me as I was even with her, and she asked for my ID. I smiled and chuckled a bit, while I dug for my wallet. She said, "Plus, I want to get a good look at your purple hair." I told her that once she saw my birth year, she'd see why I was so amused. She swore she was probably still older than me. I told her I doubted it. I won. She was one year younger. She and another employee, another older gentleman I'd never seen before, were very surprised, and among other factors they assumed had contributed to me needing to be carded before I entered a facility where 20 year olds cannot roam unsupervised was a generous application of Oil of Olay. I told the lady, actually, I have religiously moisturized my face every day since I was 16. I tell people all the time, take care of your skin! Eat real food and use moisturizer. It is super fun getting carded on a semi-regular basis. When I feel down in the dumps otherwise, it is a great pick-me-up, even if the restaurant/bar/liquor store/casino/whatever has a big sign that says if you look younger than 40, they're gonna ask for ID. Still a compliment, folks.
I wore that green wrist band all night like a badge of honor. I felt like waving my arm around and saying, "Look! My kids are old enough to be in here and consume any beverage they want, and they still asked me for ID! Woohoo!"
But, now that I'm home, and the drive sucked the life out of me, I probably don't look as youthful. I started feeling barfy somewhere between Jay Road and 63rd, many miles from home, and it was all I could do to hold it together long enough to make it to my own driveway. If I'm lucky, I'll get to sleep in until about 9 tomorrow, and maybe I'll feel recovered enough to go watch a live production of the hottest Disney story to thrill children and annoy parents in a decade. I'm going regardless, recovered or not. If I try, I'll blend in with all the little Annas and Elsas in the audience.
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