Gary

I’m going to tell you a story I’ve NEVER told anyone, ever.  Not my friends, boyfriends, family.

When I was 18 years old I was trying to get a fake ID.  I was supposed to meet up with a guy who was going to make me one, but on my way I got an urgent message on my beeper to call my friend who had set up the meeting.  I knew it was urgent because after my friend’s phone number she added, “911.”

High tech communication going on back then.

I stopped at a 7/11 on the corner of Desert Inn and Maryland, outside the Boulevard Mall, not the greatest part of town, and called my friend on the payphone.  The deal had fallen through.  The guy cancelled.  I stood there on the phone brainstorming with my friend about what we were going to do.  Without coming to a conclusion, I hung up and headed back to my car.

“Hey, I can help you out,” a skinny black dude sitting on a bicycle called out to me.

“I can help you get a fake ID, I have a friend who works at the DMV.”

He had been listening to my conversation. 

I immediately thought, “Jackpot!” 

I mean, what luck, right?!  This guy, who just happened to be eavesdropping on my conversation, knows someone who can get me a “real” fake at the DMV.  Freaking serendipity if there ever was.

“Yea, drive me over there and I’ll set it up,” he said.

“How much?”

“$100”

“I need one for my friend also.”

“No problem,” he said.

“Awesome, lets go!”

This guy, we’ll call him “Gary,” locked up his bike that he told me he had just bought at Sears, hopped in my Honda Civic and we headed to the DMV on east Sahara, also not a great neighborhood. 

“Alright, I’ll go in and set it up.”

He went inside and I waited in the parking lot.  He came out about 15 minutes later and told me it was “all good.”  My friend and I were to go to window 15, tomorrow at 1pm and the deal would go down.  So now, he needed the money.  I handed him $200 and I drove him back to the 7/11.

The next day, we excitedly went to the DMV, found window 15 and when the clerk was free, I told her Gary had sent me.  She had no clue what I was talking about.  Like none.  It took me about two seconds to realize I’d been had.  I was fuming. 

What the fuck!?

I was so, so mad. 

Now what was I going to do?

We were going to go find Gary god damn it!

First stop, Sears.

We went into the store, to the bike section, and I asked the salesman if he had sold a bike the day before to a skinny black dude named Gary.  He said he did. 

“Do you have his number or address from the sale?”

“I can’t give you that information,” the salesman said.

Obviously. 

Not to be deterred, I took my friend to a seedy apartment complex down the street, where Gary had mentioned he stayed.  I was going to find Gary, confront him, and he was going to give me my money back!

My 18-year old self was fearless!

I drove us through the complex trying to spot Gary’s bike.  My friend, wiser than me and not as fearless, told me this wasn’t a good idea and we should go.

After about ten minutes, I gave up, drove off, was out $200, massively angry, and was left with only a lesson learned that I can now share with you, dear reader, in case you ever find yourself in a similar situation:

Don’t fucking trust someone you meet outside of a 7/11 who says they can hook you up with a fake ID.

Cliffs: I’m an idiot.