My university had a big outdoor festival every year. My whole family went. They had tables set up selling beer, with a sign that said “You MUST have ID to purchase alchohol. NO EXCEPTIONS!”
So I’m standing on the line at the corndog truck, and my grandpa (the decorated WWII vet who could still drink a frat house under the table) comes up to me and says, “Do you have your license on you? They won’t sell me beer.”
I go over to the table, hand the dude my ID and buy beer, which I give to my grandpa. The man in 93 years old! He’s standing there yacking with the vendor about fermenting wine in the basement during prohibition. (“It always tasted bad, but back then we didn’t complain”). But, no ID, no exceptions.