You’re totally over the stinky, sweaty frat party scene, and the lines for the bathroom, keg, and beer pong table at house parties is starting to piss you off. You need something new for your weekend festivities… something like, the bar.
Ok, so you’re not 21, but you know as well as anyone that the bar on the corner of campus would let in anyone not still attached to their umbilical cord. All you need is a little fakey fake ID. If you’re lucky, you have an older sister who looks just like you who ceremoniously passes it down to you the minute you hit campus. If you’re not so lucky, you’re the oldest sibling/the only girl/have an older sister who is a giant bitch and won’t give you her ID because “I never had anyone to give it to me.”
But that’s OK too, because everyone knows that Howie with the sideburns on the 4th floor of the dorm does more than sell weed out of his room. He also has a pretty sweet printer and only charges $100 for an ID that he claims can even scan (!!). So you scrounge up some cash and get yourself a pretty good Fake. The picture is a little blurry and it says you are 22 and an organ donor, but it looks better than some of the other IDs you’ve seen around campus. Overall, money well spent.
When you return from class on Friday, you opt out of your weekly nap and spend the next few hours studying every last detail of your ID. You memorize the birthday, the address, the driver’s license number. You stand in front of the mirror and rehearse the exchange that will go down between you and the (neck bearded) bouncer. You smile just like the girl in the photograph (if it’s not you). You take your real ID out of your wallet and replace it with the fake. It isn’t until you’ve got everything perfect that you relax a bit and get ready for the night.
…and then you go through the details a few more times in the shower, while drying your hair and in the cab ride to the bar.
Your hands begin to tremble as you step out of the cab and into the line that has formed around the side of the building. Sure, you know this bar isn’t very strict, but you also know how totally mortifying it would be to be the one person EVER rejected. In front of all your friends. And all the older kids in line behind you. And, OMG, what if you get arrested?! What would your parents think? Would you tell them? Could you not tell them? What is jail like!?
Panicking, you pull the ID out and review the information one last time. The line is moving quickly and it’s only a matter of seconds until it’s your turn in front of that bouncer. Who is rather large. OMG, he could totally kill you.
Bouncer: ID, please?
You: Yeah, sure. Here you go. [Nervous smile.]
Bouncer: Stares at ID. Stares at you. Stares at ID. Stares at you.
You: [Armpits begin to sweat. Stomach churns.]
Bouncer: Shines flashlight on ID.
You: [Throw up a little in your mouth. Keep smiling nervously.]
Bouncer: Alright, you’re good. Go ahead.
You: OH MY GOD! Thank you! I mean, cool. Thanks… I’m gonna go now.
You linger inside the door, making sure all your friends get in before making your way to get a much-needed drink. After everyone does an excited skip across the threshold you take a few selfies then go and get your party on.
Yeah, we’ve all been there. There is no drink sweeter than your first one procured with a fake ID. But you’ll soon see that the lines for the bathroom and the bar are longer and more annoying than those house parties, and it is far sweatier than any frat party you’ve ever grinded at.