This story was told to me by a friend. I can vouch for its accuracy, amazing as it sounds.
My friend is in her forties but looks a bit younger. Still, she’s got a few gray hairs here and there (I know she won’t mind me saying this, because it’s essential to understand the story that follows). She and a friend of about the same age went into a bar in a little town in New Jersey, where they happened to be staying.
Her friend ordered a beer, and Jessica (not her name) asked for a cocktail. This is where she started to get the sense that maybe they do things a little differently in Jersey.
“Can I see your ID?” the server asked.
Jessica was a little bemused. She hadn’t been carded in, oh, probably 10 years. Still, she ...