This past weekend I was visiting my parents. My brothers had the great idea to have a bonfire, so I went on a mission to buy s’mores ingredients and beer. At the beer store you can only purchase 36 packs, so an awkward, teenaged-looking boy who looked too young to operate a car- let alone sell alcohol, directed me to the bar next door to buy a six-pack. Having never been to a bar while it was still light out, Vasudha and I entered the dimly lit room a bit hesitantly.
The inside of a bar is an interesting place on a sunny afternoon. I won’t say that the music stopped and everyone turned to look, but two innocent-looking girls in skirts attracted some staring among the regulars.
I walked up to the bar and ordered a six-pack of cider.
The young man (certainly younger than myself) behind the bar asked for my I.D. Fair enough. I don’t think I have ever gotten carded in Canada, but it’s a bar, that’s their prerogative. I handed over the only ID I carry, my Ontario driver’s license.
Bartender (more loudly than necessary): What? What is this? I can’t find the date of birth. (Loud enough for the entire bar to hear over blaring TV) Where’s the date of birth?
[Note: At this point, I would have intervened and pointed out the two places were my DOB is clearly written, but the Bartender turned to his boss in a near panic]
Bartender: Can you help me find the date of birth?
Bartender’s Boss: Hmm. No. I can’t take this. It’s from a foreign country.
Me: Huh? Seriously? Wait, really?
Bartender’s Boss: Nope. NOPE! This is from a FOREIGN country! Can’t take this. Bye.
And with that, I was cast again into the bright world, furious and beer-less. Canada is a foreign country whose ID’s the US doesn’t accept? Seriously?
(Vasudha and I seem to have issues with valid ID’s)