I was in the local liquor store last night to pick up some vodka on my way to a mate’s. The security guard said, “I hate to be a pain, but can I look at your ID?”

“You’re going to love this,” I said. “Check the date of birth carefully.” He checked it, gasped in surprise, and passed it onto his curious colleague.

‘Get out of here,” they said.

On the way out the girl at the register also asked for my ID. I smiled and handed it over, and she said, “what?” and passed it back. “You really don’t look it,” she said, to the point that it became overwhelming. I think I was blushing. I paid and grabbed the vodka and left to go to my friends’.

A friend I haven’t seen since before my trip to South America was staying over. He is from Central America and so I was excited to be able to practise my Spanish with him. I was nervous too. After a few drinks we began talking in Spanish. Afterwards, it wasn’t a long conversation, he said, “you speak well. But you get frustrated when you don’t know words.”

It wasn’t frustration and I told him. It was an excitement as I tried to find new ways of something something. Regardless, it was good feedback. He showed me how to take a drink, “para arriba, para abajo, para al centro, para adentro!”

As I entered the house that evening with the vodka, and bragging about how I had to show my ID at 30 years old, twice, in the same store, music was playing on Youtube.

“It’s Selena!” they said.


And now I love Selena.

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