I rarely darken the door of the NSLC. (That’s the Nova Scotia Liquor Corporation for all of you non Bluenosers. Most alcohol is sold through these government run stores rather than convenience stores, although there are a few in small towns. Prohibition attitudes will never die as long as the government can make money off liquor.)
I have many vices. Alcohol is not one of them.
Oh sure, I can handle the wimpy coolers that taste more like juice than alcohol. But I figure I might as well drink actual juice.
Furthermore, I’m a partial control freak, so losing control of my limbs and brain isn’t high on my list of things to do.
I’d much rather coffee and cake. Or milk and cookies.
This week, someone asked me to pick up a can of beer in Bridgewater. For a cake. A Guinness cake.
I’m not sure if you’ve eaten this solid cakey goodness, but here is one version of the recipe if you are so inclined to ignore your calorie count for a few days. I assure you, it’s worth it. Like most cakes are.
Unfortunately, the liquor store didn’t have any single Guinnesses (or is that Guinni?) so I had to pick up another can of dark ale or lager or whatever. The can was black, so it seemed comparable.
I asked the cashier if it would work in a cake, and she said yes.
And then she looked at me. You know the stare: it’s the stare of a cashier when you’re buying either smokes or liquor, as if they are counting the number of toes in your crow’s foot. Or seeing how big the bags are under your eyes.
Apparently I must have been looking perky that day.
Or the clerk had a visual impairment. Or poor judgement.
Because she asked me for my ID.
Since I still feel about 17, I always have my fingers on my driver’s license. I sometimes even wonder if I’ll get IDed if I’m buying a 6/49 ticket AKA a two dollar piece of useless paper with some writing on it.
As I took out the piece of plastic (in which I look rather fugly, thank you DMV), I said, “Bless you for asking.”
Once you’re over 30, nothing makes your day more like getting carded.
I think it was because I was buying ONE CAN OF BEER.
Don’t be mistaken, though. If I had consumed the entire can, I would’ve been dancing around on my lawn with a lampshade on my head.