Raleigh Ruckus

These stories have occurred between the attainment of my current id, that I acquired before leaving for college. 

I think it was a Hilton... A ton of sorority sisters and their respectable dates had arrived in Raleigh, North Carolina for a drunk, warm weather charged weekend. After a cold winter in Harrisonburg, Virginia the greatest thing for students of James Madison University is the first warm weekend that blanket's the campus. Although we were 5 hours away from the school, we had all suffered through the cold winter and we were ecstatic to feel the 80 degree weather and recently unwrapped palm trees. After the 5 hour car ride with 2 of my girlfriends filled with numerous games and short story exchanges, through interstate traffic, city stop lights, and North Carolinian back roads we had reached destination. We checked in under a fake wedding reception (we would never have been able to book the hotel for the formal if they knew who the real guests were- college kids, 50% underage alcoholics) we unpacked, relaxed, and started getting ready for the night out on the town. 

We knew nothing of the night life in downtown Raleigh, but we quickly gathered so information from the concierge service and random people we asked at a random red light. We got a feel for the general location of bars and restaurants, so after we had showered up and had a few drinks we headed out. 

The group consisted of a little less than 10 of us. I knew the girls in the group fairly well, but not too much about their dates. They would soon become good friends. We parked the car and strolled the streets looking for a good place to eat. We agreed on an Irish Pub that had little to no lighting, but seemed like a place that would unite college kids and drinkers alike. We sat down and all ordered drinks. Being sophomores in college, I don't recall any of us being 21. One of the guys we were with had a terrible id, so he took it upon himself to collect the ids into a pile to then hand to the waitress after she was done taking all the orders. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but quickly backfired when the waitress then asked everyone which id matched up. Most of the underagers at the table could remember the name on their id, but a few forgot. I still think the waitress had seen right through the plan, but she served us anyways. 

I had 30 or so dollars in my wallet, realizing the night that I was about to undertake I decided, along with some others that I should take out some more money. The atm was conveniently located close to our table. I approached the machine and inserted my card... then a problem occurred: Insufficient Funds. This is one phrase that college kids and their parents hate. After embarrassingly filling my friends in on the situation, we collaborated that even if we were 21, in a case like this we would call our parents. I did as suggested. I filled my mom in on the story and she agreed to pay for my date and My's dinner along with some extra cash over the phone by giving the waitress her credit card number, like ordering take-out. 

I reported back to the waitress, and she said that she would have to check with the manager. At this time I called my mom back to let her know, when she asked me:

"How much do you think the bill will be?"

"Around $75," I responded

"Where the hell are you eating?"

"Well there might be a few drinks on the tab," I fill my mom in.

"Are they serving a bunch us underage kids?"

"Well, here's the thing: If the waitress asks, my name is James Adams," I reply with a grin.

 

This is the name on fake id and (since I'm still not 21 yet) whenever I'm going out to the bars she tells me:

"Have a good time, and be safe, James Adams!"

To get back to the original problem, the manager rejected this idea and my friend kindly covered the tab.  As for the rest of the night and weekend: I spent all my cash on drinks, and I got some money transfered in the next day. The warm weather was short lived, but an open bar to Long Island Iced Teas and various other stiff drinks made everyone quickly forget.

fake id first timer

As I am getting closer and closer to the end of an era in falsely identifying myself to consume dangerous amounts of poison at dive bars... I can't help but recalling a times with my various ids. 

I got my first fake id within the first month of senior year of high school. I had a friend that I worked with a this Italian restaurant (restaurant friends are a combination of the movie Waiting and Anthony Bourdain's book Kitchen Confidential) that said he had Photoshop (a stolen version of course) and a standard set of false identification making tools. I gave the guy my real Virginia driver's license and a week's time to complete the task. $35 dollars later and I was ecstatic. 

I was until I realized that I needed to get an Exacto knife and cut the id out of the laminate that covered it. I was told that after cutting it I would need to apply a glue stick to the sides and it would be complete. I did as assigned and what was suppose to be my fake id looked like a second grader had a picture of me, messed around with it on Microsoft Paint, and printed it on thick, shiny paper. Suddenly, the high risk of this investment was starting to prove to have little to no returns.  A week later would prove it.

A week later I drove to the Shell station near to my house to engage in my first purchase of adult beverages... What would come to be the first of infinite. I was shaking harder than a black girl's ass in a rap video, and sweating as hard as one too. I attempted to walk in with confidence, but I thought that the black cashier had seen right through me. I still had time... time to get a regular drink or a candy bar... time to show up to my ,more than likely nonexistent, party sober and ask one of my more experienced fake id equipped friends to go get me a $6 dollar case of Natural Light (which I still drink to this day). But NO, I went for it.

I walked to the back left end of the convenient store, opened the door and picked up my 12 pack. I marched up to the counter. I didn't even think about a line. I didn't think about being seen by neighborhood gossipers or my parent's friends that would be sure to rat to my parents about my illegal purchases. There I stood... 17 with beer, and my growing nervousness was matched with the growing likelihood that my voice was going to crack when I spoke next. After what seemed like forever, the line moved; gas was paid, and cigarettes were purchased. I walked up to the cash register, and placed my 12 freezing friends on the counter. 

"Wo' dat be aw fo yo toe-nite?" the black guy proposed

"Yes sir," I hushed to someone who probably was only a couple years older than me. 

"$6 (something)," he mumbled.

I handed the cashier my money with exact change (I was prepared to leave as quickly as possible) in total astonishment. I walked back to my car (which was parked out of viewing distance) in shock. 'Did I really just buy beer without being carded?' 'Was it really that easy?' 'Why didn't I do this all summer?' That would have saved me the embarrassment of bumming beers off people. I could not believe it. I was somewhat relieved, but somewhat pissed that the cashier had not questioned me so that I could showoff my freshly purchased older identity. 

That Shell station has treated me well over the years even with the attainment of identification upgrades. I can say 'years' with confidence because last week I was home for Thanksgiving... Another 12 of good ole' Natty. 

 

Stories and Tale Telling

Time changes stories in 2 ways:

 1. They become in even the oddest way funnier

 2. They become further from the truth