One of the unavoidable truths of my fledgling adult life is that I have quite a bit less hair than I did ten years ago. Hey, it happens. It also just happens that my driver’s license photo has caused a lot of look-down-look-up-look-down-look-up kind of action from airport security employees. I was once told in no uncertain terms to “get a new license.” This was a JFK, and the guy was pretty irritated that I look ten pounds heavier in my photo and have a somewhat-shaggy head of hair. Now I’m thinner, with a closely shaved pate and a beard. Big deal, right?

Today’s comment was the best, and boldest so far. I gave my license to a very nice woman at the JetBlue check-in in Burlington, VT. (The kiosks were busy, yo.) She looked down, looked up, looked down, looked up, and simply said, “You’ve lost all your hair.”

Uh, thanks.

I didn’t make any comments about her complexion, which looked like it had been shelled by some tiny army for the last several months.