He came in and sat down like he owned the place. His face didn't ring any bells with me so he didn't own the place.

"Hi. Can I help you?" the newest bartender asked.

"Yes. I would like a Bud draft."

"Okay. Can I see an I.D.?"

They check I.D.'s religiously, even mine still gets checked occasionally.

"You're checking my I.D.? I'm sixty four years old. I've been coming here for twenty years and I've never had my I.D. checked."

"Well, I don't know you so I have to check your I.D."

"Where's Shawn (the manager)?"

"He's at the bank."

"Well I'm going to tell him that you wouldn't serve me when he gets back."

"I'm just doing my job."

"They card everyone," I said.

He produced two forms of I.D.'s but neither was a proper I.D. for drinking.

"I can't serve you without a proper I.D."

"I've had this problem before."

I laughed out loud that the guy had just poked a couple holes into his own story. I had been sitting relatively quiet because truly it was none of my business.

She ended up calling the manager who actually vouched for the guy over the phone. She set a pint in front of him and told him that she spoke to the manager and that he can't talk to her like he had been. The manager came in four minutes later and heard the guy's story. I manager told the guy that he should apologize to the bartender.

"She should apologize to me!"

His request for a second beer was left unfulfilled.

The manager sat next to me after the guy left.