Just the Facts

Two young white men.

Drinking White Claws in line.

Which is illegal (in this territory).

Still drinking all the way until it’s their turn.

Kevin says he forgot his ID, but I can take his word for it.

Ben brings out an ID.

Blonde, 5’9.

Ben has dark hair, 5’5.

It’s clearly Kevin’s ID.

My pocket gets slightly heavier.

The young gent pulls out his phone to dial 911. “This happens all the time,” Ben said.

“I doubt it, but sure, go ahead and call the police.”

So he presses the call button.

He ended the call right before he put it up against his ear. Taller people, we have better vantage points. The police never came, to my disappointment, because here are the crimes he would’ve been charged with.

• Open Container

• Identity Theft

• Making a False Claim

Now, the second one is a little fishy. Legally, you cannot destroy or ‘steal’ a genuine ID at a bar. You must give it back to the person it legally belongs to. This person was standing right next to him. I can easily give Kevin his ID back if he proves he is, in fact, Kevin.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Brendan,” Kevin said.

And so we dance for just a little longer.

I’ve been handing people little certificates of participation. Is it petty? Sure. But my mom came up with the idea and they look amazing so I shall continue to hand them out.

“No, I don’t want that,” Ben said.”It' might be dynamite.”

Because dynamite is so often wrapped in colorful ribbon.

There’s a give-and-take with Ben trying to think up new ways he came tell me that this kind of thing is totally normal and the police will sort it out. I knew the police weren’t coming as soon as he said that. When a person gets their real ID taken they start to panic.

Not panic like they got caught. Panic like a panic attack. It’s visceral. They feel slighted because this literally should not be happening to them.

But they don’t yell or scream or attack - verbally or physically. It’s a sullen shutdown, of sorts.

Here’s something you should know: law-abiding citizens fear police confrontation more than people actively breaking the law, without firearms involved

Why?

Because “good” people never feel like they will face such a circumstance.

And “bad” people not only expect to interact with police, they come up with excuses to tell them beforehand. Perps, as my certificates call them, also tend to be more engaging in such an environment.

Do you want to know someone’s life story? Catch them in the act of doing something illegal or immoral and they’ll spend however long it takes telling you why they’re a good person. (Cough, Supreme Court Nominee, Cough)

Ben was in the process of doing the same. I wasn’t actively listening, but somewhere around his early high school years I asked him if he was about to tell me what his dad does and why I shouldn’t cross his heritage.

Kevin/Brendan gave in and finally opened up the certificate. I wanted to see a flash of a smile, but he looked confused. Maybe I used words longer than six letters and he needed to dictionary. The phone came out. And with it his …

Social Media. And with his profiles came …

Instagram: Kevin’s

Facebook: Kevin’s

Snapchat: Kevin’s

ID: Kevin.

Yes, Kevin. I know. Why were you being such a dumbass?

“It’s only a month until my birthday but my brother leaves for San Diego in a couple weeks,” Ben said, apologetically.

Just kidding. He was still an asshole.