When you spend time at home with family and your oldest friends, it can be an awesome way to relive tales of your least suave behavior. Case in point:
In the weeks prior to my high school graduation, our focus was solely on earning excellent marks on all of our finals exams. Or 1/100th of focus was spent on that and the remainder was spent on two elements of real importance: graduation trip to Hawaii and how to obtain a quality fake ID before departing for that trip.
A friend at school had an inside line on some seedy hole in downtown Seattle where a quality fake ID could be purchased for a mere 20 dollar bill. Like pilgrims going to Canterbury, we plotted our visits. And we each produced what we believed a highly valid facsimile. No need to mention they were horrible, and fooled no one because they looked something like this:
BUT, they worked perfectly during our trip. Why? Because the establishments we used them in were built for fools like us who would pay $8 back then for a watered down and brown Long Island Iced Tea. But oh, how wise and grown up we felt. Yes, the ID indicates we were 21. Never mind we were acting like we were 16 every time we used them.
My freshman year in college, I was more daring. The bars at school were ruthless about carding people often paying doormen and bouncers $50.00 per fake ID they retained. Walls of many bars were covered with the clever (and sometimes shameful) attempts to be of age.
An older friend supplied with her ID. In brazen antics, I took it to the DMV. My pals Muppet and KitKat were with me. As they chatted up the DMV employee, I shenaniganed my way into having my picture actually put on the photo. Surely, there could be no better fake ID than this. It was my photo! How genius. So I tested it as a famous bar across the street from our house. I easily passed the doorman. Until a complete and utter tool of a bouncer saw me and came in hot pursuit. He went to my high school so I felt it was an unjust use of hometown knowledge. But I fled before he could confiscate. However, I did not flee before I told him he was a complete and utter tool of a bouncer. The desire to run my mouth even as I was running out the door was great indeed.
This ID served me well for two years and I was the King Pin of buying alcohol for all of our friends. I was also crafty and clever and handled my ID with the same care the Hope Diamond would require. Never to lose it or mistreat it. Never.
The summer after my sophomore year, I spent three months at my parents house in Alaska. One afternoon, I returned home and in my room found my freshly laundered clothes in a tidy stack courtesy of my Mom. Delicately laid on top of said pile was my fake ID. Quick assessment confirmed: this is not good. I had left it in my jeans from an outing the night before. CURSES.
Later, my Mom asks me if I realize it is illegal to tamper with an ID. I explained I in fact did not tamper with it. She asked for an explanation. So I explain that I went to the DMV and through powers of persuasion and friendly distracting chit chat, I was able to get my photograph on someone else’s ID. The more important question I should have asked myself is: Why can I not shut my yap??? My Mom asked if I realized it is a federal offense to do what I did. I am but a mere college student, I replied. The letter of the law is outside my sphere of knowledge at this time. She asks me to gauge my Father's response should I get arrested for using this ID. I replied I would not call him because surely he would be too busy for such a call. Her response, “Oh, I am going to be too busy to take that call as well.” Damn.
Later in college, when fake ID was no longer an issue, I actually gave my ID to a younger girl in my house. The only caveat was a list of bars she could never enter because we knew people who worked there. Did she listen? NO. She got a small albeit humorous payback but that is a story for another day.
And that same year, took us one night to see a friend emplyed at the bar infamous for welcoming patrons regardless of age. You simply had to have ID, not ID that passed any scrutiny. This bar didn't care about fines from the Liquor Control Board because they were making wads of cash off the innocent lambs bleating through the doors. We were loitering outside with him and an unexpected snafu required him to leave his post. He asked if I could step in and check IDs for a few minutes. Are you kidding? I would love the opportunity to see the clown show of IDs pouring into this place even for ten minutes.
I saw numerous IDs claiming ages as high as age 32. 32? And still wearing your hat sideways? Right. I also saw an ID that appeared to be a hand drawn photo on a piece of copy paper. And an ID that looked nothing like the pale young man holding it. I asked him, “Is this really you?”
He said, “Oh yeah, I was just really tan there.”
To which I replied, “Tan? And also born in Brazil. Cool mustache by the way.”
I think this boy was an easy five years from getting his first chin hair.
Did I let them in? Of course. Nobody wants to be the complete and utter tool of a bouncer. Plus, I didn’t actually work there. And I didn’t want to be trapped in a stream of crying 18 year olds either.
And DO NOT FORGET to enter the Pack Your Bags Giveaway! Ends 8/8/2010.