I Must Incest You Give Me Your ID

I’m seventeen and I’m at an outdoor restaurant with my parents. My dad — who is 57 — and I go up to the window to order while my mom stays at the table.

Dad: “We’ll have [order] and two beers, please.”

Cashier: “Are both the beers for you, sir?”

Dad: “No, one is for my wife.”

Cashier: *To me* “I’ll need to see your ID, then, ma’am.”

Me: “I’ll go get my mom.”