Saturday, April 28, 2007
Fake ID confiscation #6 #7 #8 #9
It was a warm night last night. The east village was a bit dead, but there were quite a few people in the castle. You boys must have looked in and seen a bartender serving at a quick pace to people who she didn't seem to be carding. There was no bouncer, and hell, these ID's must have set you back at least a hundred and fifty each- there was no reason not to stop in for a fancy beer in a totally "adult" kind of bar.
The reason you didn't see me ID the people before you was that I had ID'd them on their first round, and of course, their ID's were real. Peter, you were the ring leader, the courageous one, the one who could play it cool and order a round. I asked for your ID's. No problem, you handed me four ID's.
Then there was a pause. I said to you, I don't think these ID's are real. You replied, that's ridiculous, why not? They're all our real ID's.
I said, they feel wrong.
You retorted, Wrong? What are you talking about?Fine! we'll leave.
I said, ok, but I'm not giving them back to you.
What?! you replied outraged.
It's a crime to give them back to you. Sorry.
NO WAY! you have to give us our ID's back. They're real!!
This was the moment I doubted.
I asked you, Peter, where in Michigan is Armada. You said, up north. I said, where up north. You made a thumbs up gesture and yelled, UP NORTH. I replied, you're not from Michigan- anyone from Michigan would have made their hand palm toward me, and pointed where on the mitten map of Michigan the town was. Have you ever met anyone from Michigan, Peter?
If you want them back I have to call the police, and they can give them back to you if they're real.
Fine, call the cops.
So I walkie-talkie to my dude in charge to get the owner. He said the owner had left. I picked up the phone and dialed the cops. You, Pete-y, called to me over the counter with, Hey! Handshake!. And tried to bribe me with ten whole dollars.
Peter, you can't even buy some of the beers at this bar for ten dollars.
Then you, and your three friends who looked pale as sheets, as if they were about to poo in their pants at any moment, ran like baby lambs from the bar.
The cops were called off.
See despite the confusion of some readers of other posts in this blog-- I really am liable for you drinking if you have that ID. What if you came back to the bar another night, when another bartender who didn't know the difference was working? What if a cop came in to check ID's as they do in the east village, and the place where I work was caught serving to a minor? I'd have no job - my co-workers and boss would have to go to court. Do you know how many friends of mine work in this industry? Why would I possibly want you to leave you armed to endanger them and their jobs too?
Peter, drink at home. Drink on your dorm rooftop. Drink in a state that doesn't care or a bar where I don't know anyone. But don't come to my neighborhood and try to get us in trouble. You're not from here. Also, you're not from Michigan.