Last night's dinner hardly required us to 'go to extremes with impossible schemes' but I still had Frank Sinatra's song buzzing around my head afterwards.
Caro and I walked to a Mexican restaurant a few streets from her house and enjoyed delicious food and a jumbo lime margarita.
But before we were able to tuck in we had to - wait for it - show our IDs.
Back home I would think that having to show my ID suggested I looked too young to be frequenting the establishment in question. Here, however, it's a different story. If you want to buy or consume alcohol in this country, you must show ID. My friend here used to be a barman, and he said it's a general rule that if someone looks younger than 35, ask them.
Clearly I've still got a few good years left in me, right? Or at least this 'general rule' is a good indicator of how good (or not) I'm looking these days. When the barman stops asking me for ID, it's time to rent a DVD and stay in for the night. Until then, though - keep the margaritas coming...
3 comments:
Was the barman cross eyed?
If it means I get a margarita at the end of our exchange, I do not care if he's cross-eyed, buck-toothed, and playing a banjo.
Actually, if he's all of these things and STILL makes me a margarita, he gets my vote.
If you jeep up the giant margarita's you'll b well on the way to looking 35+ pronto!
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