There were two young women at the ticket booth. So I asked, "How old do you have to be to get the senior discount?"
One of them answered: "62."
"And you get to go skating?"
"Of course."
"Okay," I told her through the window, "I'll take one adult and one senior." Then I paused. "Do you need to see my i.d?"
She gave me a quick look. "No."
So B and I got in for $7. And (I have to say) I thought it was pretty nice of me to cover the extra-expensive entry fee that she was required to pay.
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| View from the skating rink overlooking Bear Mtn. Bridge |
12 comments:
You reminded me of a time long ago when I was in a grocery line and the clerk asked if I got the senior discount. Startled, I asked how old I needed to be, and she said "62." I was devastated, since I thought I looked younger than my age! I did qualify, and after the initial shock, was glad for it. :-)
I never expect a discount, so it's always a treat.
Once when I was in my 30's someone asked for my ID when I ordered a drink...now I no longer care that much.
Now I just ask if there is a senior discount. No one has ever asked me to prove that I qualify, regardless of the age requirement.
Since most ticket takers and admission people appear to be under 20 I am sure I look old enough to be the "correct" age.
Oh, I take that back. The federal government wanted proof I qualified for the Senior Pass for National Parks.
That's what you get for being with a younger woman.
I used to joke that I'm a senior when it's convenient. the rest of the ime I'm just a middle aged woman. ha!
It was nice of you indeed to pay her way.
My husband loves the senior discounts. He just sent off for our state park passes. Did you know Southwest Air has a senior discount?
Do you live close to Bear Mountain? My son went to West Point. The view looks very familiar. Skate away!
My third attempt to leave a comment. I hate blogger.
I feel very 68 right now. What an old fut.
Re books..try the MacMillan book. Did you ever finish the Tuchman book you were reading? Dianne
Been there, done almost that.
Back when I was a child growing up in NYC in the fifties, my parents would shlep us all to Bear Mountain. Not in the winter (brrrrr), we usually went in the spring or fall. Too cold then too.
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