So, I never go to the liquor store. Alcohol just magically appears at my house (ok, it could have something to do with Shawn - but, no, I'm going with magical). But, today I ventured into the liquor store. And, if I do say so myself, I was looking quite young. I had my hair in a mussed, haphazard pile on my head; I was wearing workout clothes; more importantly, I was wearing sunglasses to cover the tell-tale crow's feet. Couple that with my high of being carded all vacation long and I thought, "Oh, yeah. Here it comes. I'm getting carded for sure!" (BTW, you know you're over 30 when the prospect of getting carded makes you a little giddy - and you don't even care if it's because the young waiter is trying to flatter you...) I stepped up to the counter and I got... nothin'. Not even a second glance from the cute, young thang behind the counter. But, then I realized, most underage drinkers probably aren't buying 12-year-old scotch.
I'm going back. And, I'm only going to buy Coors Light, wine coolers and Strawberry Hill Boones Farm.
P.S. I just died a little bit inside realizing that it was still legal for me to drink when my scotch was born. I'm buying the 18-year-old stuff next time.