+ confessions of a red-headed stepchild: friday confessional

Friday, March 18, 2005

friday confessional

When I was 17 I had a fake ID.

I used to live in a small town (population 16,000) where bar hopping at 17 years old meant you ran into old substitute teachers from high school. They would scratch their heads while trying to do the math that would legitimize YOU being at the bar...after seeing you in class earlier that same year. Thank goodness for the mind numbing properties of alcohol!

I never really got into any trouble with it, other than a run in with a crazy police officer. He saw me driving with my boyfriend in a neighboring town on his day off. He wrote down the boyfriend's license plate number, looked up the boyfriend's address at the DMV and began stalking me with his briefcase.

I tried to avoid him for as long as possible but quickly realized that he had nothing better to do. So I gave in and agreed to talk to him. He asked me if I remembered showing a fake ID to an officer leaving a party nearly a year prior. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I felt cornered and wanted to lie but for some reason I told the truth. And I am forever thankful I did because of the contents of his briefcase. He pulled out evidence that he had spent the bulk of the last year and hundreds of tax dollars trying to crack this case.

He asked me where the fake ID was and I lied to him. I was only 19 and couldn't bear going back to under-aged status, so I said it was in a wallet that was stolen. He said that since I had been honest with him he was going to go easy on me. He told me about the 7 tickets he could give me, including some that seemed very serious...or I could be a narc and tell him who all of the drug dealers were and get off with nothing. I acted interested in the "deal" and told him I needed sometime to think about it.

I never got back with him.