This evening I stopped by my local liquor store to purchase a sophisticated adult beverage. When I placed my bottle on the counter to pay, the cashier looked at me and said,
Alright, finally! Somebody I don't need to ask for an ID!
Uh, thanks, I guess.
Apparently he'd been getting a bunch of teenagers with fake ID's and such all night. At the time, I figured either my hair follicle deficit or the gray fur on my chin was the clue that I was decades past needing an ID. But on my way home, I realized what the true giveaway must have been: