Drinking Tickets? Nah I’m street legal

It’s no secret that I look like a child. Without facial hair, I look like I’m 16 years old. With facial hair, I look like I’m Vincent Price. It’s a real tragedy. This reminds me of a story. In college I used to go out to the bars. See, the funny thing about college is that you are allowed in the bar when you’re 19, but you just aren’t allowed to drink. WHO THE HELL IS GOING TO GO TO A BAR WHEN THEY ARE 19 AND NOT DRINK!? That’s like handing me a suitcase or the keys to a safe and saying, “whatever you do don’t look inside.” There were a ton of people I went to school with who would regularly get drinking tickets. The cops in Champaign would put under cover police in the bar and when they saw you take a sip of alcohol, they’d casually walk over and ask, “can I see your ID?” Chris Hansen style. In the entire time I was 19 and 20, I was never asked to show my ID or stopped by the police. As you can anticipate, here comes the story. On the night of my 21st birthday, there was a city-wide raid. It was mass panic. Students were running out the door. Jumping over fences. Being tackled in the streets.  Patty wagons swept the perimeter.  I could swim in the tears of the under-aged.  A midst all the chaos, I stood my ground. I was 21 now. I’m street legal I thought. There was one cop who didn’t care though. “He couldn’t be bought, bullied, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.”

To paint the picture for you, this cop looked and sounded exactly like Lance Henriksen. If you don’t know who that is, he played the android, Bishop, in Aliens. If you don’t know what that is, walk away from the computer. He’s also in the picture above. A picture which closely resembles what I look like with facial hair. Anyway, here is the conversation that elapsed. He approached me and simply said, “Let’s have it.” Staring into my soul as I reached into my pocket, I knew this guy meant business. Imagine that everything I did was in slow motion, but he was still in real time. That’s how I felt. After handing him my ID, he squinted at it, flipped it around, held it up to the light, banged it on the table and then said, “This is a good one. One of the best fakes I’ve ever seen. Let’s have the real one.” I informed him, “Sir, I’m actually 21. It’s actually my birthday.” He wasn’t buying it. There was a 30 second staring contest before I handed him my Drivers License. I could already hear the Curb Your Enthusiasm playing in my head. Five more minutes went by as he did the standard tests on my license. He pressed it up against the wall, flossed his teeth with it, juggled it, and then threw it back at me like a ninja star, which hit me right in the neck. Had my license had pointy edges, I would have bled out right there. “Wow, you’re lucky.” I smiled and said, “I know. You should have been here last night.”

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2 thoughts on “Drinking Tickets? Nah I’m street legal

  1. matthewnallen says:

    It’s some kind of “Nallen Curse”. . . Oh the looks I get when I tell people that I have three kids, I have to tell them I’m almost 30 and I get the usual “Oh, I thought you were 22!”. . . Live it up, sir.

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