Sean walked into the bar about five minutes after seven dressed in cargo shorts, flip flops, and a different tee shirt than the one he’d had on earlier. Despite his claim to be twenty-one, he looked like a teenager. I hoped he’d brought ID or he’d be drinking Cokes all night. He saw me and came over to my table.
“I’m surprised you’re here,” he said, taking the seat across from my own. “I thought for sure you’d stand me up.”
“I thought so, too,” I admitted.
When a waitress came over to take our drink orders, Sean told her he wanted a Corona and was immediately carded. He produced a driver’s license that she looked at long and hard before returning to him. She certainly didn’t card me when I asked for a Guinness, but she did give me a somewhat suspect look before walking away. She clearly
