A couple years back, I was at the Phoenix airport bar. It was empty except for
one heavy-set, gray bearded, grizzled guy who looked like he just rode his donkey
into town after a long day of panning for silver in them thar hills. He ordered
a Jack Daniels straight up, and that's when I overheard the young guy with the
earring behind the bar asking him if he had ID. At first the old sea captain just
laughed. But the guy with the twinkle in his ...

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