To Be or Not To Be… Carded

There comes a time in every woman’s life when they just stop asking. And unlike the fantasies we may have entertained when we were 16 or 18, it turns out it really isn’t all that great a feeling.

We spend our under-aged “kitten years” wishing we were old enough to wander casually into a grown-up establishment, brimming with cool confidence, make eyes at the handsome bartender and seductively order something “neat,” “dirty,” “extra dry,” “shaken, not stirred” or “on the rocks” like it’s our job. In other words… we can’t wait to be viewed as independent, mature members of society.

But in reality… when that magical times comes when we CAN wander casually into a grown-up establishment, brimming with cool confidence, make eyes at the handsome bartender and seductively order something “neat,” “dirty,” “extra dry,” “shaken, not stirred” or “on the rocks” like it’s our job… we sit there secretly praying he will ask to see our I.D. In other words…  we hope to be viewed as that long-gone “kitten,” perhaps not even old enough to grace the place with the innocence of our presence.

And the “eyes” we make at him, well… they are one of two varieties… the pleading or the daring. Pleading with him: OH PLEEEEEEZE ask to see my I.D. you know I can’t possibly be older than 21, don’t you? Or daring him NOT to ask, thus threatening his very life on what might happen next. If NOT carded (gulp) we are likely to fling ourselves across the bar, grab his towel and strangle him with it for so much as THINKING we are so obviously “of age” that we aren’t even worth the asking.

The only time… THE ONLY TIME that I DO NOT want to be carded is when I’ve forgotten my I.D. Which is, of course, as Murphy’s Law clearly states… the exact moment the poor bastard will ask. This happened recently after an Ohio State game and Lee was concerned that I would not be permitted anywhere without my I.D. Not because I look that young, but because they were college bars and college bars tend to be ultra cautious. But we played the whole “Guess Who’s More Likely To Let You In Without An I.D. Sociology Game” and chose the right bouncer… and it worked. And I got in. That time.

Had they not let me in, I was going to execute a new strategy where I put my face up REALLY CLOSE to the person making the judgment call that was going to effect the entire rest of my evening and ask them whether or not my crow’s feet would be an acceptable form of identification.

Poor bartenders and bouncers. It must be tough to be them… dealing on a daily basis with women perched ever so precariously on the edge of sanity as we wrestle with this whole getting older thing. But here’s an FYI… I am 36. Yes 36. Fifteen freakin’ years beyond the legal limit, and far from being considered a “kitten” but I still want to be asked if for no other reason than to flatter my ancient ass. For what it’s worth… There’s an additional 20% in it for you if you do.


9 thoughts on “To Be or Not To Be… Carded

  1. I want to be carded. I don’t drink, but I would totally order one if I thought for a second I’d get carded. Soon, the only carding anyone will do for me is to ask for my Senior Citizen discount card. Fun times.

  2. Oh the joys of growing older…Fred and I usually are considered younger than our years so it came as a shock when we were at I-Hop and asked if we wanted the Senior prices. And that was about 5 years ago! I wanted to strangle the pretty little thing behind the cash register. So I identify, Joanna. .

  3. StrangeLittleGirl says:

    LOL @ “ask them whether or not my crow’s feet would be an acceptable form of identification.” Aging in America is not very easy on a woman right now.

    I’ve actually only been carded once. I’ve got like a Benjamin button aging thing going on, at 13 I was offered a in store Credit Card, at 15 I was served liquor (ordered “tea” that was “flavored” with something called Smirnoff, had not a clue is was alcoholic), at 18 I became my 40 year old’s mother’s, sister and at 28 people think I’m close to my actual age (finally) LOL

  4. Ha! Having worked where I sold liquor and cigarettes, my vigilance in carding varied with how recently we had received a talk on how much we could get fined for serving minors. The legal age here is 19, so you’re less likely to get carded in your thirties, but on my paranoid days, I’d card anyone who didn’t have white hair. A 16-year old (girl) with the right makeup and attitude can look 30, no problem. Guys are quite a lot easier.

    I’ve been carded once in my life, and it was last week when I went to see Harold and Kumar. I didn’t even give him ID. I just laughed at him and said, “Seriously?” Eventually, he just waved me through..

    • HA! That is too funny about Harold and Kumar 😀 And thanks for the
      insight into the whole carding stratedy thing. Makes sense. I know, most places are just being cautious… and then there comes a time… like the post says… where they just STOP asking. I am happy to say that I get carded about 40% of the time. At least it hasn’t stopped altogther! 😉

  5. As always, a very humorous read. (I’m American, but I got into the habit of placing the unnecessary “u” in it because my British friends ALWAYS make a big deal out of it.)

    If I was a bartender and a woman got eyeball to eyeball with me, and I said: “eth amphetamines.”? Well, perhaps I shouldn’t ask. 🙂

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