As I stepped up to the counter and asked for my cigarettes, the clerk uttered that magical phrase, "May I see your ID?".
I hadn't heard THAT in so long I wasn't sure I could even comply, but I fumbled for my driver's license and showed her my date of birth. I tried to maintain without giggling so wildly that it would raise suspicion that I was high on something illegal.
Before getting back into my car I started singing a little Pointer Sisters' "Yes, you can", "Yes you can-can ..." in the parking lot just for drill.