I was one of the last to get to the 6Underground gig last night, but I found my friends still hanging out downstairs, making like rockstars, talking and smoking (cigarettes). And as I found my spot to sit amongst the boys, I got comfy on one of the ledges, ready to smoke myself, lighter ready, I realized the pack I had in my hand had run out.
Where’s the nearest 711? I asked. I have to buy cigarettes.
Friends pointed me to the right direction.
I walked alone, strutting just a little, the way I do when it’s just before a gig and I’m antsy to get to watch the live bands.
Walking, down the hall and to the left at the main road, at the corner, I found the convenient convenience store. Walked in and went straight to the counter. I said, “Ate, isang Marlboro Lights, soft pack.”
Cashier lady looked me up and down. Looked again. Frowned. Hesitated. And said, “Ilang taon na po kayo?” (Translation: “Wow you don’t look 23 are you for shizz buying cigarettes?”)
I don’t think I helped her suspicion when I stammered with the answer. “I’m twenty…? I’m twenty-three!”
She asked/insisted for an ID. And who knew, it was one of those nights I actually had one on me.
So, yeah, I got my cigarettes. But I hurried back to the boys, excited to pass on the story. I laughed my ass off over the cashier lady apologizing over and over. I laughed, telling the story, and retelling it now, still not knowing whether to be insulted or thrilled.
Okay, okay, so maybe more thrilled than insulted. So I can still pass off as 17, huh? *bats eyelashes*
I say, when I get carded just because I was dressed somewhat Jonas Brothers-esque, nothing’s really stopping me now from going on dressed like that. I mean, look at these pretty boys dressed as asexual, androgynous (also, in all likelihood, talentless) creatures:
I was wearing something close to Joe’s — rightmost kid — outfit, except my vest was black and my shirt was pink. And — Holy gayness WTF? Is that a braided… THING, a.k.a. A HEADBAND dangling from his head???
I’m too old for this shit.