On my first leave from the Marine Corps back in 1971, I went home to see my parents. One night I went, in uniform, to a neighborhood bar. I was 19 years old, and the legal drinking age was 21. The bartender asked me for my ID, and after he looked at it he said he couldn't serve me. It just so happened that the bar owner was also behind the bar. He came over, pulled the bartender aside, and spoke two words: "Serve him."
I paid for that first beer, but none after that. Every time I ordered up another, one of the other patrons had already paid for it. And every time I said "Thank you", I got back, "No, thank you".
I had quite a buzz on when I left there. And I had a great time. If anyone who reads this was someone who bought that kid a beer that night, he thanks you from the bottom of his heart for the memory.
1 comment:
So you were 19 in '71? I think that might make you a bit too old to actually still be working as a cop.
I understood you to still be on active duty, did I miss something?
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