Two hours into my Sunday shift, a shift where I wasn't on the schedule and there was little reason for me to stay beyond 11 p.m., I went outside for some fresh, springtime air. 

A few minutes earlier and a few miles away, an Uber van presumably pulled up to an expensive house in East Grand Rapids where five teenagers piled in with their destination already plugged into their leader's app. The destination could very well have been a multitude of places, but at 10:15 p.m. while I was breathing in the unusually crisp air downwind of a brewery, the black rideshare turned into the parking lot across the street of my bar. 

Standing next to me was a former bar-back, Texas, waiting for someone to join him for a drink. As the van doors opened and the five girls exited the van, Texas saw one of them do a full squat to adjust herself. The girls, Texas and I are the only ones in the space of a few football fields with feet on pavement, so any movement stands out.

They had my full attention.

The pack crossed the street and proceeded to line up next to three other people who managed to enter into my view from the adjacent parking lot. Yet still, my attention was on the pack. The first girl handed me an Ohio ID -- for any readers wondering, it is the farthest right in the second picture -- and I thought about asking her some questions but then stopped myself.

Instead, I asked for the ID of the girl behind her. Illinois. Clearly a fake. 

I suppress my elation. 

I ask for the next. Ohio No. 2. The banner colors don't match between both Ohio IDs. Different shades of blue present themselves, as do clean pictures and different sized state flags by the signatures. I ask for another ID.

South Carolina. My grin is showing, but I'm tall enough for them not to notice. People using fake IDs don't like direct eye contact. My brother likes staring contests so I am well prepared for a silent showdown from brow to brow.

I ask for the fifth and final ID. Pennsylvania. 

All five are in my hand and I'm smiling bigger than Ben Affleck's nanny wearing Tom Brady's Super Bowl rings. At this point I let the girls in on the joke and that they all need, in the most polite of terms, to fuck off. I check the IDs of the three customers who witnessed a record-breaking performance and then do a Danny Briere fist pump on the pavement in front of the patio gates. 

Fake ID Nos. 100, 101, 102, 103 and 104. On a night I wasn't on the schedule. Face got bogged down during his Easter Sunday open and Authority sent me the text to come in and help.

What a way to end a weekend.

I collected 65 IDs at the time of my first blog post a week before I celebrated 7 months on the job and added 39 more in the succeeding 7 weeks. I am not sure if it's a record to get 100 IDs in this city. I'm sure power five college towns see more than my area, but I also don't know if they keep them or not. I'm glad my bar does.

But these were just the last five. I started the weekend at 92.

Friday ID No. 1: Racist Jon Strikes Again

The first fake from Friday was a bad Photoshop job with an Illinois background and the sticker already peeling in one corner. He spent his idle time next to the patio doing handstands while he waited for his friends to buy and finish their drinks. The acrobat was also of Asian decent so I'm sure another misguided Yelp review is on its way.

Friday ID No. 2: What's my state again?

Eyebrows are everything. Big eyebrows are the easiest to spot on a person's face and then on their ID, followed by eye color and ears. Height is important, too, but often is secondary to a person's face. John Doh came up and handed me an ID of someone nearly 24 years old and sporting some thick ones. He didn't have the follicle severity and I knew the ID wasn't him. Then his girlfriend stepped in and started the fight.

What are you doing?

Taking this ID. It's not him.

Yes, it is. He's my boyfriend. We go to GVSU together.

Her ID said she was newly 21 by weeks instead of months. A 24-21 college romance isn't out of the ordinary, and I had no doubt of their relationship. But the dude's eyebrows, man.

His eyebrows don't match. He got the house number wrong on his address. He's two or three inches too short. It's not him.

But he's my boyfriend.

Then your boyfriend brought someone else's ID.

He got the address wrong because he's from out of state.

John Doh was wearing an Arizona State hoodie.

OK, John. How tall are you?

Um ... 5-11.

The ID said 5-10 but Doh was 5-8 tops. 

How come you got the address wrong? Is this your brother's or cousin's ID?

I didn't get it wrong. I said the street. I'm from right downtown. My whole family went to Catholic Central right here.

But your girlfriend said you from out of state. That's why you couldn't think of the address.

The girlfriend steps in. She's angry and now changes her story. She's from out of state.

No, I said I was from out of state.

But you just said he was. Where are you from? 

She didn't name a hometown. At this point, it became another dance or "will they or won't they" call the police. The couple walked away only to return a few minutes later and offer to buy back the ID for $20 then upped the offer to $45, which I thought was oddly specific. It also worked at Tavern, which they thought would impress me.

Saturday ID No. 1: Fauxhio

I don't typically see a lot of men's fake IDs but Friday and Saturday were full-on sausage fests of fakes. Fauxhio came with a group of five who were shocked, I said shocked, to find someone in their group would dare to bring a fake. Each member of the group pleaded to me that it "worked at Tavern," and proceeded to show me the wristband.

Tavern gave them a wristband. The ID was already cracked and peeling from the picture side. The picture which was probably his sophomore year class photo.

Oh, Tavern, you disappoint me.

Saturday ID No. 2: Chau-ing off

Sabrina was nice enough to hand me my first chauffeur's license. A shame she couldn't remember she was six inches shorter and the year of her birth.

Saturday ID No. 3: Snitches don't give hugs

Oh, my you curly blonde bastard. Why couldn't you just use an ID as tall as your 6-3 self? You just had to use poor Cam's driver's license. All 5-9 of him. But I thought I'd still have some fun. CBB received a very special hug from a very special lady who said "OMG! I haven't seen you in forever!" and then asked me if it was OK for her to step outside the patio and give him a hug. She gave him a big bear hug and then went back inside the gate. Knowing he wasn't who he said he was I asked her what his name was.

I don't know him.

But you just hugged him.

I've never seen him before.

But ... you asked permission to hug him.

I have no idea who this guy is.

OK ... that's ... one for the books. I turned to his friend next to me and ask him what CBB's real name is. Shocker, it was not Cam.

Saturday ID No. 4: Operation Dumbass Drop

ID No. 99 was the easiest ID of all to catch. Easier than all of the bad cut-and-paste jobs. Easier than short and tall girls. Easier than eyebrows. Easier than eye colors, easier than out-of-states and easier than the same ID caught twice, twice.

This cat is a baby-faced early-20s jock with a working vocabulary I bet dollars to doughnuts on includes more mentions of swole, brah and Gucci than even the most basic bitch frat bro.  

Swole hands me an identification card of a man who looks like he's done some hard time. Swole looks like he's just old enough to eat hard candy. The ID looks like an extra from Prison Break while Swole was probably a baby double in Daddy Day Care. 

I laughed out loud before he started to share how he got his hands on this ID.

Which ID did I give you?

The wrong one.

No, listen I think I gave you my uncle's ID.

That's still the wrong one.

But I lost my ID at (a different bar.he says incorrectly).

He would never say it correctly.

And?

And let me see which one I gave you? I dropped mine on the floor and I think I picked that one up.

And you didn't think to make sure it was you?

It was dark.

This guy's a grown-ass man. You are not.

Hey, look it was dark. I just picked it up and thought it was me.

If you thought this was you then you're too dumb to be let into this bar.

After his third floor comment, I finally kicked him out. His friends, too. I was waiting for ID No. 100 that night and needed them out of the way.

After 10 minutes on Sunday, South Carolina and Illinois came back to the bar to offer me $60 for the return of their IDs. I already made the Facebook post and was smiling from ear-to-ear. No amount of money was going to take that away. 

South Carolina turned to Illinois and said she can just buy another one for $40 and they'll be back when I'm not working.

Game on girlfriend

Game. On.