Things They Do Look Awful C-C-Cold

So, I'm sitting in a neighborhood establishment last week, enjoying a quiet bite before heading off to run box office for the show, when a 20-something CapHillster, replete with soul patch, earholes, lip piercing, and numerous tattoos approaches me and says, "Excuse me sir, could we use one of your chairs?"

I nodded vaguely in the direction of the unoccupied seats across the table and replied, "sure, no problem," then went back to my meal. He hoisted the chair and walked back over to his group.

And then it hit me --

Aw, crap! He just called me "sir"!

As if I required any additional, irrefutable evidence that I am no longer young...