I am over 21, trust me.

Sitting at JFK for hours at a time drives one to drink. After waiting in the lounge for 4 hours, I got up to ask the bartender for a cranberry vodka, which is impossible to mess up. I stand at the bar and ask for my drink politely and she stares at me and smiles. I stare back at her. She looks at me for about 10 seconds.
I tell her: You don't think I'm 21.
She agrees.
I offer to get my passport and show her. She shakes her head. No need, she says. The man sitting at the bar laughs.
She asks me how old I am. I tell her I'm 22, which is old enough. She smiles, stares at me again. I ask her if she believes me. She laughs and pours even more vodka in my drink. I stare at the amount. Jesus. I'm going to be drunk.
She tells me that she believes me because if I were under 21 then I would try harder to look older and gun harder to get this free drink. I tell her, look, I almost feel like if I come back, I should show you my passport... she laughs before handing me my drink. AWKWARD.