Canadian Down Under

Saturday, August 06, 2005

"You've got wrinkles"

It's official: I'm old. And I am never going out again! Okay, well never going out until my ego heals or boredom drives me out....

The story?

Last weekend a friend and I caught up over dinner. We hadn't seen each other in a while so what started out as a simple dinner turned into drinks with friends later in the bar as we continued to catch up, which then turned into a full-fledged night out.

Shortly before the last entry curfew at 2 am we headed to our favourite 'end of the evening' haunt: The Boatshed. The only really good place to end a big night out. (It is such a hole, but you just gotta experience it to believe it.)

Anyway, my friend and the bouncer of the Boatshed have this ongoing argument of sorts. See, every time we go there, the bouncer just waves my friend's boyfriend in, waves me in but always stops her and asks for ID. Instead of taking it as a compliment, she takes issue with it. Seeing as she's now 30 she doesn't feel she should have to show her ID anymore. It's really a ridiculous argument, but one the two of them seem to enjoy. Usually by the time she gets in, her boyfriend and I are on our second drink - but to her it's worth it, because it's the principle of it. (?? Whatever - the logic seems to work for her.)

So last Saturday as we stroll up to the door, the two of them started their banter. Or should I say she started to assert herself and her right to enter 'uncarded'. The bouncer started to argue with her, but gave up after a couple of syllables and waved her in. Then he saw me. He asked me for ID, then laughed and waved me in as well saying I didn't need to because he could see my wrinkles.

See my wrinkles???????? Bastard.

I was pretty annoyed - I mean I'm no spring chicken and I don't get carded anymore - but I'm generally guessed to be at about 10 years younger than I am. In fact, people often comment on how I have such a young face because I have no wrinkles.

Okay, I'm sober so I'll stop going on about it. But the same can not be said for Saturday night. By the time I got down the stairs (yes the Boatshed is in the basement - first sign that the place is a Grade A hole...) I was still going on about how insulted I was that I stopped the bouncer at the bottom of the stairs and asked him if he thought I had wrinkles. The smart man that he was answered no. I proceeded to tell him why I asked and then dragged him upstairs to tell off the bouncer at the door for me.

Amazingly my friend and I are not banned. In fact, in some strange way I think we have endeared ourselves to the bouncers and in an even stranger way, I think they actually are looking forward to our return.

Men. Uggh. I think I'm developing a serious dislike for Australian men.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home