We’ve all been there before, that awkward purgatory where you’re so close yet so far from being able to express the new-found freedom of 21 in the form of spending six dollars on a Redbull & Vodka. Unfortunately you got a little while more to go coasting off your Fake ID, which added at least an inch or two in size under the belt when you were 18 but now just stands as an embarrassing reminder that you can’t yet indulge in what your College town truly has to offer. You never want to be that guy in a crew whose with those of age because now you’re the asshole whose palms are starting to sweat because the only thought racing through your head is how Cindy is going to view you as that underage boner who got denied from Sharkies on fishbowl Fridays. Regardless if the situation does arise there is certainly ways to go about it, and ways to NOT go about it, I’m here to help explain this to you.
1). If your fake is as credible as Aaron Hernandez’s innocence please refrain from arguing that it is a legitimate ID. The bouncer will take you as serious as those fake parody Drake twitter accounts who breakdown life’s questions and philosophies that high school girls think 100% applies to them. Roll with the punches and head on down the street to the 18 and older club which will be full of said high school girls.
2). This is something everyone’s guilty of in the preliminary years where it’s thought after being a freshman for two months you’re somehow bestowed the insight of Confucius when it comes to exploiting College life. ”Nah man you totally gotta go to C’s for that discount on booze, fakes work their like a charm It’s like I basically work there I go so much.” Whilst taking a swift denial from the entrance into a bar DON’T say the sarcastic cock-sucking remark you just fabricated in your head. ”Oh well there’s goes at least $30 worth down the drain.” Listen everyone knows you only brought $10 out and that was to buy the first underage blonde who at the swing of her hips, puts you in a trance as you now plan out the rest of your lives together after you attempt a Will Smith from Hitch (which won’t happen). Just keep your mouth shout, because not only do you come off as a punk but if you cause a scene chances are this bouncer will spite you until your 21. It also makes you look like an asshole whose trying to downplay the embarrassment of having to turn around and face the entire crowd who just bared witness to your failure. I cringe every time I hear someone make that statement of how they’re losing business from denying a single person entry. Really? You’re sure the thirty people behind you waiting to get in won’t compensate in the slightest bit? Just keep on walking.
3). I understand that alcohol somehow gives us the illusion that were now on par with superman in terms of confidence and strength, but in reality that is the farthest thing from the truth. So your attempt on sneaking in through the exit or slipping in through the crowd isn’t the best idea, in fact it’s a good way to get launched by a 6’4 220 bouncer which would be the closest thing to feeling like Superman you’ll probably experience that night. (Unless you drunk enough to withstand 200 volts from your friend Blythe’s Taser which no one understands how he got in the first place but nonetheless is kinda cool).
4). If you weren’t allowed into the bar on your first attempt your second, third, or tenth try won’t be any fucking different. Better luck next time.
Being denied is the many things we have to go through whilst in college. It’s a fear that always has its place in the back of your head but at the end of the day you know you can’t do anything but pray that the Bouncer actually believes you’re from Pennsylvania (Which is the token Fake so I suggest a little more creativity, make a statement and rock a fucking Alaska ID). Other than that hopefully a friend or a girl can help you out, because girls are granted access to whatever bar they please once their XS v-neck exposes that their chest grew a couple inches over the summer. Which I suppose is frustrating but the trade off is that they still have to harvest a potential seven pound baby who takes refuge inside their womb for roughly eight months so I guess I would prefer the waiting game of not being 21. But for you bouncers who break before our very eyes the salvation to our weekends I’m convinced there is a special place in hell for you, sitting in a booth right across from Hitler or Scar from the Lion King. We are college kids, losing a Fake is comparable to failing that Gen-Ed you thought you put just enough effort into. But the wait makes the sweet day of turning 21 so tangible that you can almost taste the Johnny Walker hitting your pursed lips as your tongue embraces what feels like the first rainfall during a seven year drought in the Sahara. And on that day you’ll proudly wave that motherfucker in the bouncers face with such conviction that the Cindy who once saw you as that underage child will now be on her knees begging you for your newly instilled maturity (Or at least you hope it will).
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