Sam and I stopped by a quick-stop-and-go-gas-station place for beer. I set it at the register and sort of stepped away so Sam could pay. Okay, what I really did was turn away and stare longingly at the enormous candy display behind me, reciting (In my head, only, thanks. I'm not completely insane.), and this sounds like The Little Train That Shouldn't, "I don't need candy. I don't need candy. I don't need candy."
And as I'm standing there, trying to ignore the Whatchamacallit, I sort of sense... the woman behind the counter is doing... nothing?
I look at her curiously. "Hi," I say, trying to prompt her ass to just ring up my beer, already.
But because I am obsessive about the candy (and also, to get some, I must choose one before the bitch hits "total"), I turned back to the display.
Yet there is still no beepy-beepy meaning she's ringing up. But there is, "Uhm, do you have any ID?" So I turned and smirked (okay, and snorted) at Sam because, seriously? Neither of us will ever again pass for traditional college students. But he handed over his license, and she studied it. And studied it. Then she handed it back to him (I assume, because at this point I was still obsessing with the SweeTarts), and I hear, "I'm going to need your ID, too."
Aren't we being a tiny protective of the beer?
But I held my tongue (mostly) and handed over my license so we could just get the hell out of there. Seriously. Bitch. Wrap up the beer. Oh. Mygod.
It wasn't until I was climbing back into the car that it occurred to me. Okay, so maybe my obsession with the candy display, the awkward ignoring of the activity at the cash register, my continuous back-turning to her. Maybe it looked a little bit like me turning away to hide my face? And that dude, the one who was obviously old enough to buy booze, but he's with that chick who isn't making eye-contact, who's acting kinda sneaky? And who isn't, for whatever reason, making the purchase herself. Huh. Maybe someone needs to call the cops.