…More Than Sweet Potatoes

How to Win Respect and Beat the Police With a Well Designed Cover Story

One summer in college, I was still on campus (or came back to campus…this I do not recall with great certainty) and wanted to go out with Natalie.

This seems normal enough, except that I turned 21 after I graduated college.  For all four of my collegiate years I was passing myself off as my sister.  My sister who is 12 years older than me.  For those of you bad at math, that means at 17 years old, I was attempting to pass myself off as a year shy of 30.  Oh, also, my sister is 4 inches taller than me.  Aside from that, we do look eerily similar.  And she looks crazy young.
This is from 2013, but imagine it wasn’t much
different about 8 or 9 years ago

Anyway, so 19 year old me – I think – and my over 21 year old friend Natalie decide to go out to a bar that we’ll call “Cousins” for plausible deniability purposes.  The thing is, there isn’t a whole lot else to do in the middle of Indiana, so we drink…

I was using “Cousins” as a decoy bar name but it seems
this place actually exists..

Standard operating procedure when you have a fake ID (or an ID that isn’t of your actual self) is to be the first person to give your ID to the bouncer.  This way if you are turned away, you do not need to corral your friends or have them waiting inside for you confused.  Also, if you ARE turned away, you can huff and puff as though it is a travesty toward a different bar in a group – which is much more convincing than as an individual.

My ID was kind of like this, except it was real
and I’m not McLovin’.
So I hand this guy my [sister’s] ID.

Bouncer Dude: [looking at the ID too long] hmm.  How tall are you?
Me: 5’7″ [I’m actually 5’5″…my sister is 5’9″, the ID says 5’8″]
Bouncer Dude: mmm hmmm.  Do you have another form of ID?
Me: Sure!

I then pull out a credit card in my sister’s name.

Bouncer Dude: any other photo ID?
Me: Great question.  Let me see.

I whip open my wallet and start thumbing through the contents.  I offer up another credit card in my sister’s name, my blockbuster card that is in my father’s name for proof of last name and an expired old driver’s license in my sister’s name.
*I should note here that I fucking think things through.  Lest you think I was flying by the seat of my pants.  The only cards in my wallet were in my sisters name or gift cards that have no name on them.  I had previously removed anything with my name on it.  Only amateurs would make that mistake.*

Bouncer Dude: Yeah.  This is fake.
Me: No.  It’s not.  How many forms of ID do you need in order to believe it’s me?
Bouncer Dude: I believe it’s your picture, but this is a fake ID.
Me: Seriously? [because actually, it’s not.  It’s a real, valid identification card.  It scans.  It’s real.]
Bouncer Dude: If you’d like, I can call the police and they can check if it’s real…
Me: [literally without a beat…and obviously without thinking] Yes.  Please do that.

I cannot speak for Natalie, but I’m pretty certain the emotion we felt at that moment was horrified.  Actually, I was feeling pretty really super fucking horrified, but I had gone too far.  There was no going back now.  I was going to have to play this out.  And try to stop shaking.  As soon as I said “please do that” a police car pulled up on the curb.  It was go time.  Bouncer dude walks over to the police car (whose passenger side is on the curb with the window down) and hands him my [sister’s] ID card.  The police man waves me over.  I stand near the passenger window and hunch over so I can see the officer who has decided to stay in the car.

Police officer: State your name
I do [well, my sister’s name]
PO: address?
I rattle off her current address, which is apparently not the one on the card
PO: Any reason why that’s not the address on your license?
Me: Oh!  yeah.  I just moved a month ago [factual] the address on the card is [redacted].
PO: Okay.  Eye color?
Me: Hazel.  Did I put green on there?  Because…wishful thinking…
PO: Ma’am, please step back to where you were

As you can probably assume, I am now shaking and doing my absolute best to hide it.  The policeman comes out of the car and walks up to me.

PO: Why are you here on a college campus in the middle of the summer?
Me: [without missing a beat because apparently I am a lying ninja] That girl over there [I motion to Natalie] is my cousin.  She graduated this year [the graduation part is factual] and I was unable to come down and celebrate with her.  I promised I would when I had time off from work.
PO: Okay.  Please stay here.

This is my future, isn’t it?

He walks over to Bouncer Dude.  They have a discussion which lasts all of about 30 seconds but may as well have been a year.  I’m certain I am going to jail…when the doorman walks over to me and hands me all of the cards and ID’s I’d given him.

Bouncer Dude: I’m really sorry.  I just did NOT believe you were 31.  You really REALLY don’t look 31.
Me: It’s okay!  I’d much prefer you think it was fake than believe it anyway!  So I guess thank you!

Natalie and I go into the bar, go directly to the bathroom where I LOSE MY SHIT.  I am shaking and crying and a ball of nervous energy finally allowed to explode.  I did it.  I beat the COPS!
Naturally Bouncer Dude never asked me for my ID again.  I didn’t see him often, but when I did, he just waved me through.  I think he always knew I was lying, but couldn’t prove it, so he let it go.
I did tell my parents this story because at some point, being a deviant gives way to being a Bad Ass Mother Fucker and I wanted my parents to know they raised a cool human being.
I did end up going back to that bar after I turned 21.  The same Bouncer dude was still working there (which is kind of sad, actually…) and I strongly suggested he check my ID.  Once he did so he screamed “I knew it.  What the FUCK!” then high fived me and sent me into the bar.
That day went down as the [first] day I lied to the cops and got away with it.
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3 comments on “How to Win Respect and Beat the Police With a Well Designed Cover Story

  1. Pingback: Why You Should Tell the Police that You Forgot Your Fake ID | ...More Than Sweet Potatoes

  2. Pingback: How My Car Accident Formed a Sense of Power | ...More Than Sweet Potatoes

  3. Pingback: The Picture I Paint of Myself | ...More Than Sweet Potatoes

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