Tough Neighborhood

I stopped at the Taco Bell Phillips 66 last night on my way home from church. I picked up some grape juice to quench my thirst on the drive home.

In front of me in the checkout line was a guy buying a six pack of beer. I'm not one to call someone "old", but the gray hair sticking out from under his ball cap and his gray mustache were a dead give away. And just in case you might think he was one of those prematurely gray teenagers, a month of Oil of O'lay treatments wouldn't hide his crows feet. And still the checkout lady said, "can I see your ID?"

Well, I had to say something. "Makes you feel young doesn't it?" He chuckled and mumbled something with a smile and off he went to terrorize people on I-24 as he enjoyed his six pack as he drove to Nashville.

So I stepped up to the counter, handed her my Tropicana 100% grape juice and my credit card. (I know, it was only $1.37, but yesterday morning Cheryl needed two ones. When I opened my wallet I had a one and a five. "Oh well", she said as she took both.) I was still amused with myself for commenting on her asking for an old guy's ID when she said to me, "Can I see your ID?" "Wow! This is a tough neighborhood", I said. "You all even ID for grape juice!?"