When I was a freshman in college, I would forge documents for students so they could get a fake ID from the state that showed them to be legal drinking age. All I needed was a photocopy of a birth certificate. I would white-out the year and type over it and then photo-copy it again. Since the students weren’t attempting to get driver’s licenses, it was all the state required. I of course made one for myself. I walked by a bar and they were looking for part-time employment. I completed the application and then headed over to where they sold carry-out liquor. I headed up to the counter with my purchase and dug out my fake ID. As I was standing there, the guy who I had turned over my app to came up and put it down next to me on the counter in front of the clerk selling me booze. He tapped meaningfully on the birthdate of my application. The clerk, who had been examining my ID, looked at me with a smirk. I left utterly humiliated by my stupidity and without my fake ID. I didn’t make another.
I entered my freshman year of college at the ripe old age of barely 18. A couple of my dorm-friends and I went to the local liquor store and illegally bought booze. My choice was grape Mad Dog 20/20. I don’t think I was mixing it with anything. We drove around town and drank and giggled and drank some more. Our driver had just parked the car on campus and I stumbled out and promptly threw up. My first buzz-ending-in-puking-adventure. It’s taken many years, but once in a while I’m able to take a couple of sips of grape soda. Remember the kool-aid flavored, wax bottles? The ones with grape tastes just like that Mad Dog.