Given we are on a training-based trip, so far there’s been minimal boozing and carousing. But sometimes, when the body is sore and the mind is overloaded with “which hand goes where and am I upside down at this point?” a little Saturday night glass of red wine goes down well. And so I skipped through Walmart on my way back from the gym, and tossed one into the basket.
Only that was the end of my alcoholic endeavours. Given I’ve quite successfully been getting into bars and clubs since the age of 14, I wasn’t expecting to get ID’d at the register. And whilst my driving license confirms I am just shy of 39, I don’t take it with me to the gym.
A notice, confusingly displayed in the watches section, confirms it is store policy to age check anyone under “40”.
Firstly, 40? I mean, I understand the concern about under-age drinking, but ID’ing up to almost twice the 21 year-old legal limit seems overly prudent. I could have kids that would be freely allowed to drink.
Secondly, I was always under the impression time was a linear measurement, and you could only be under 40, over 40 or actually 40. These days, or in California, it seems possible to be “40”, perhaps in the same way teenagers on television are actually played by 27 year-old actors.
*As a brief aside, Andy did not get age-checked when we went back, so the store policy doesn’t seem to be comprehensively enforced. Either the cumulative gym-sweat has deaging powers, or my random post-training hairstyle must have triggered some kind of fugitive alert.