Several, several years ago Ruth and I took the kids to Arizona for our Christmas vacation. I took everyone to a Phoenix Suns basketball game. I think it was 2012.

The Suns were brutal that year. I bought tickets from a scalper for like, I dunno, whatever change I had in my pocket and a bunch of paperclips.

Once we’d settled in our seats, I went down to the concessions booth to get a beer. I can’t remember why, but Ruth had already bought one for herself earlier at the very same booth.

There was a Metallica t-shirt-wearing guy, maybe early 30’s, in line in front of me and the young lady slinging the beer asked him for ID, which I thought was a bit odd as this gentleman looked like he did Jaeger shots for breakfast. In prison.

Then I got to the front of the line, and ordered a Lowenbrau because at the time we couldn’t get those where I came from.

The server was maybe 19, but who knows for sure, as I was 52 at the time, and nobody over 40 has any idea what the age is of anyone under 30, and the same goes for vice-versa.

“Can I see your ID, please” she said sweetly.

“Very funny” I retorted although I sensed no irony in her tone.

“No really, I need to see your ID.”

“I THINK I MIGHT LOVE YOU!” I blurted reaching into my pocket. “Is there any chance I can bring my wife down from the stands and we could play this scene over again for her?”

“No.” she said, so completely unmoved by my giddiness.

Checking my privilege, I added “OK so, level with me, you just have to ask everyone for their ID no matter what, is that it?”

“Just anyone who looks under 40.” She yawned.

“OH MY GOD! YOU JUST MADE IT BETTER! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?! YOU JUST TOOK SOMETHING AMAZING AND SOMEHOW MADE IT BETTER!” I was screaming to the chagrin of everyone in line behind me. I was ready to jump over the counter and kiss her, hang the inappropriateness.

I did not run back to our seats with my beer. Nor did I walk. I floated.

“I just got carded” I beamed to Ruth and the kids and everyone else in Section 227.

“Pardon” said Ruth.

I GOT CARDED” I told the whole stadium. “THE BEER LADY CARDED ME! Did you get carded?”

Ruth’s entire body crumpled. She got smaller in her seat. “No” she croaked out in a decipherable whisper.

That was exactly the reaction I was hoping for.

“Well, I did! I got carded! I’m six years older than you and I got carded. I’m 52 years old and I got carded!”

I looked to the fat American sitting in the row behind us. “What’s the drinking age here in The United States of America?” I asked him.

“21?” he said with a question mark as if maybe I was Alex Trebek.

I looked back at Ruth “21! Twenty-one! And I’m 52, and I got carded. And you didn’t.”

It’s now over 11 years since that happened, and whenever I seem to be on the losing end of an argument with Ruth, I’m able to counter whatever sound logic she happens to be spewing at the time with “Remember that time at The Phoenix Suns game when I got carded?” and it immediately closes down the discussion, and I win.

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I’m headed down to Vegas to play in The World Series of Poker Seniors tournament, as I do every year.

A “senior” in the WSOP meta sphere is 50 and up.

Probably I won’t get carded.

But remember that time in Phoenix…?