Being Served

Being Served

Philadelphia PA

1970

I am a 10^th grader, 15 years old, not very worldly and not very confident. For some reason, tonight, a Saturday night, my older sister has invited me to join her. She is going out to a bar with some of her college friends. While she is older than me, she is only 18 years old and the drinking age is 21.

There are seven of us, the six college students and me. The oldest person is 19. We sit in the corner in a booth. My sister tells me to sit with my back to the bar so the bartender won’t notice me. He won’t see how young I look. One of the guys, the only one with the full beard, gets up and goes the bar and orders several pitchers of beer for all of us. He comes back with the pitchers and glasses. And I am shaking in my boots. I have been served.

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