My despair at being carded while purchasing glue earlier in the week instigated the only possible outcome: I laughingly disclosed the story to my friends. One of them enlightened me with this response:
Recently she arrived at the airport hair up, no make-up, donned in sweats. When she checked in the front desk clerk inquired if she would like an escort to her gate. She replied in the negative and asked why she would need an escort. The clerk answered that anyone traveling alone under the age of fifteen could have the services of an escort if they desired. Her response, “I’m not fourteen, I’m twenty-two!”
Obtuse clerk: “Oh. Sorry.”
I feel exceptionally superior. At least I wasn’t mistaken for a fourteen year-old!