chili
06-09-2006, 06:56 PM
<p>I have to confess this ultimate douchebaggery on my part when I was in college. </p><p class="MsoNormal">A couple of my friends and I are sitting around the apartment one Summer night. I was not yet 21 at the time. Only one of the guys is 21 but one of the other two
has a fake ID. I know he has a fake ID because he hasn't stopped
fucking talking about it in the week and a day since he got the damned
thing. And I don't just mean mentioning it in passing, I'm talking
about "Yep... going downtown later this week, you should get a fake
man, it's gonna suck when you are sitting around here by yourself."
"You should really look at getting a fake." "Fuck yeah downtown tonight
is gonna kick ass." "Oh man, it will be so totally sweet when I go
downtown with my FAKE ID and totally get head from like 5 chicks
because that's what I hear happens downtown when shit gets crazy." </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You
get the picture. So I'm a little pissed, not being 21 and having my roomate rub it in my face that he has a fake. So anyway... they are all sitting
around; the 21 year old; the fake ID guy; the other guy, Gilbert; and
me, the roomate who is steaming just a little under the collar but
still enjoying himself during the pre-partying phase. Sam, another
person of age, stops by to pick up the legit 21 yr old and the
doppelganger 21 yr old whose other half is somewhere without their
identification. Sam is skeptical of the smoothness with which fake 21
yr old claims he can gain entry into the bars. This being a small college town, there's not much for the cops to do but crack down on fake IDs. Basically the cops sit around
downtown and wait for shit to happen, wait for that drunk drive to
swear they are okay enough to drive after puking on the side view
mirror and popping a breathmint and eating some Wunderbread. This means
that the barkeeps downtown have no choice but to be dicks when it comes
to IDs. But fake ID guy swears his ID will work. <em>Swears it.</em>
Sam looks at him and says something to the effect of “We’re going to
Tiger Town Tavern, and if you don’t get in, don’t expect me to give you
a ride home, man, you’re taking public tansport” </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The wheels in my mind, greased with Bacardi 151 and Dr. Pepper, start to churn. Fake ID. Tiger Town
Tavern. Walking Home. As the group is preparing to
leave I reach over to floppy haired douchebag (FHD) and ask to see his
ID one last time. “Man, that is really authentic,” I comment while
memorizing the name and address on the ID card, “See you guys later.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal">They
leave. After five minutes, the 151 floating through my body, providing
me with the feeling of that warm booziness, I pick
up the phone and call Tiger Town Tavern. I can barely hear the
bartender over the noise in the bar. I tell them my name is the name on the ID. My address is the
address on the ID. I tell them I left the bar, some floppy haired
douchebag beat me up and stole it so he could get into the bar. I tell
them, if they see him come to the door, take the ID, I want it back. I
leave a fake number.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Then
I wait. I drive over to my friend Cooper’s house and tell him what I
did. He doesn’t believe me. He kinda does, but who would pull that kind
of a dick move on somebody they live with. Me.
This guy, this floppy haired douchebag who won’t share his George
Forman grill because we didn’t cleaning after using it after he didn’t
clean it, who wont share any of his things but still took up the whole
den for an entire weekend so he could play Halo with his buddies, this
guy had it coming. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Minutes
later Sam calls Cooper. He tells us that the fake 21 yr old couldn’t
get in, that the bar threatened to call the cops, that they actually
took the ID and put it on the cash register, something he’d never seen
in many nights of going downtown. Co
has a fake ID. I know he has a fake ID because he hasn't stopped
fucking talking about it in the week and a day since he got the damned
thing. And I don't just mean mentioning it in passing, I'm talking
about "Yep... going downtown later this week, you should get a fake
man, it's gonna suck when you are sitting around here by yourself."
"You should really look at getting a fake." "Fuck yeah downtown tonight
is gonna kick ass." "Oh man, it will be so totally sweet when I go
downtown with my FAKE ID and totally get head from like 5 chicks
because that's what I hear happens downtown when shit gets crazy." </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You
get the picture. So I'm a little pissed, not being 21 and having my roomate rub it in my face that he has a fake. So anyway... they are all sitting
around; the 21 year old; the fake ID guy; the other guy, Gilbert; and
me, the roomate who is steaming just a little under the collar but
still enjoying himself during the pre-partying phase. Sam, another
person of age, stops by to pick up the legit 21 yr old and the
doppelganger 21 yr old whose other half is somewhere without their
identification. Sam is skeptical of the smoothness with which fake 21
yr old claims he can gain entry into the bars. This being a small college town, there's not much for the cops to do but crack down on fake IDs. Basically the cops sit around
downtown and wait for shit to happen, wait for that drunk drive to
swear they are okay enough to drive after puking on the side view
mirror and popping a breathmint and eating some Wunderbread. This means
that the barkeeps downtown have no choice but to be dicks when it comes
to IDs. But fake ID guy swears his ID will work. <em>Swears it.</em>
Sam looks at him and says something to the effect of “We’re going to
Tiger Town Tavern, and if you don’t get in, don’t expect me to give you
a ride home, man, you’re taking public tansport” </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The wheels in my mind, greased with Bacardi 151 and Dr. Pepper, start to churn. Fake ID. Tiger Town
Tavern. Walking Home. As the group is preparing to
leave I reach over to floppy haired douchebag (FHD) and ask to see his
ID one last time. “Man, that is really authentic,” I comment while
memorizing the name and address on the ID card, “See you guys later.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal">They
leave. After five minutes, the 151 floating through my body, providing
me with the feeling of that warm booziness, I pick
up the phone and call Tiger Town Tavern. I can barely hear the
bartender over the noise in the bar. I tell them my name is the name on the ID. My address is the
address on the ID. I tell them I left the bar, some floppy haired
douchebag beat me up and stole it so he could get into the bar. I tell
them, if they see him come to the door, take the ID, I want it back. I
leave a fake number.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Then
I wait. I drive over to my friend Cooper’s house and tell him what I
did. He doesn’t believe me. He kinda does, but who would pull that kind
of a dick move on somebody they live with. Me.
This guy, this floppy haired douchebag who won’t share his George
Forman grill because we didn’t cleaning after using it after he didn’t
clean it, who wont share any of his things but still took up the whole
den for an entire weekend so he could play Halo with his buddies, this
guy had it coming. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Minutes
later Sam calls Cooper. He tells us that the fake 21 yr old couldn’t
get in, that the bar threatened to call the cops, that they actually
took the ID and put it on the cash register, something he’d never seen
in many nights of going downtown. Co