Saturday, June 30, 2012

"Let Me See Your..."

So this past week was my birthday, and in celebration I had a few little gatherings. On my actual birthday, some of my friends took me out to a hookah bar. It was ridiculously fun and we stayed there from about seven until eleven. Then the next night, my dad and Sharon cooked me dinner and made me a giant paisley cake. (They are finally coming around to my tattoo.) Then two days later, my mom, little brother, and Adam went out to a Peruvian restaurant and I got all kinds of special things done, like having a menu that said Happy Birthday at the top.


Regina and I decided to end the week with a movie: Magic Mike. For any girls reading this, you'll definitely like the movie. But maybe go during the day so you can circumvent all the squealing forty year old women who drink way too much.


We got to the theatre, waited in line for about ten minutes, then were able to buy our tickets. I let Regina go to the first teller and waited for the next one. I walked up, told him the movie and time and passed him my twenty.


"Uh, I need to see some ID." I cannot begin to explain how hard I rolled my eyes. I had just turned twenty, and I was getting CARDED? I had never been carded in my life. Ever. People always try to serve me at restaurants, and even when I was sixteen buying tickets for R-rated movies, I was never carded.


I opened up my bill fold with another hardy eye roll, then snapped it shut. I got my ticket then found Regina waiting for me to get in the popcorn line. I told her the story and she laughed. 


"I don't LOOK sixteen!" I exclaimed loudly. I felt like I looked like an old lady: no make up, a house dress, flip flops and a hastily made braid.


"You should take it as a compliment," Regina suggested. I was annoyed.


We stood in separate lines to get popcorn, and of course, I chose the slowest one. When I finally got my popcorn and soda, Regina was already inside looking for seats. I walked up to the ticket taker and it happened again.


"How old are you?" The guy in the wheelchair asked. He had seen me a million times. I smiled.


"Twenty," I said, my teeth slightly clenched. "born in good old ninety-two." He shook his head like he didn't believe me, but I kept walking. I was going to watch a movie with my friend who was younger, looked younger, acted younger, and she didn't get carded once.


Yeah, I might have been slightly pissed off, but then the movie started, and Channing Tatum made all of that go away.