The fake ID. It’s flimsy, it’s fake and you want one. And you’ll do just about anything to get one. The quest for the perfect fake ID includes five major sources. Call it civil disobedience, call it a party, the fun begins here.
The street: More popular in high school than it is today, buying a fake ID off the street provides thrills and chills. Long-time badboy “Chipper” advises strolling south of Washington Square Park in New York City, looking for storefronts advertising picture IDs. “The more words misspelled on the sign,” he says, “the better your chances.” The alternative is to scan the sidewalks for an unsteady criminal with an unnervingly common name (think Bob or Rufus) who invites you to a professional conference at a local Taco Bell. In the end, your ID will have fake holograms and a signature you signed in Sharpie, but the picture will be yours. Remember, kids, it’s not a felony unless you are using someone else’s identity.
The upperclassman: This is what the facebook is for. Hours of cruising can help you locate a 21-year-old acquaintance with similar features and hair. Persuading him or her to give up his or her ID is another story. “I got mine this way,” says gymnast and party professional “Renee.” “Sometimes it takes sexual favors, threats or baked goods. But I got one.”
The expatriate: For the creative among us, Brazilian national “Paolo” points out that certain IDs can be easily replicated. “I scanned my driver’s license from Brazil and changed the dates,” he said. “Then I printed it out again, and I laminated it with those sticky sheets you get at Staples.” You can make them for your friends too, “But only if they speak Portuguese,” adds Paolo, “to be safe.”
The village bicycle: Or use the ID everyone’s using. Every boy has spent evenings as Dickie Cuomo, Jr., every girl has masqueraded as Della Lucille Hobart. These IDs are so old that the print has rubbed off in some places. The expiration dates have long passed. They’re a great excuse to make up stories about why you haven’t driven since you first got your license … in 1992.
The sibling: Sad but true, a perfect ID can only come from a perfect sibling. “Evelyn” recalls with nostalgia the days she paraded into neighborhood liquor stores at age 15, armed with irrefutable evidence that she was 30. “They’d stop my boyfriend at the door,” she remembers, “They’d say, ‘You can’t carry that stuff out, but she can.'” Felony? Oh please, it’s all in the family.
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