These are real fake ID stories. And these are all real photos of fake IDs that were posted to Instagram. But they have no correlation whatsoever to the fake ID stories posted below.
(Also, young people: Don’t post photos of your fake ID to Instagram. It’s a really bad idea.)
My friend went into a deli to buy beer. He had a fake ID. The fake ID said “JOHN STAMOS.” My underage friend approached the counter with a six-pack. The cashier asked for ID. The cashier looked at the ID. The cashier looked at the teen. The cashier said, “Nice try, Uncle Jesse.”
My sister looks like me, used my passport all the time, but then accidentally used it when going thru passport control in St. Bart’s. My passport has a St. Bart’s stamp, but I’ve never actually been there :(
My mom was worried that I was going to get busted using a fake ID at bars since she pointed out it was illegal — so is drinking, mom — so she offered for me to use her real ID instead. I pointed out that, A.) If it got confiscated it would be a bigger problem and B.) I DONT LOOK LIKE I’M 40, MOM! COME ON!
The dude that made my fake ID let me make up my address (since I went to college out of state), so I lived on 1993 Back Street. In hindsight, I should have gone with Nsync Avenue.
I used mine to get a tattoo when I was underage, but I stupidly told the shop owner how excited I was that I’d gotten a fake ID. Then he let me get tattooed anyway.
I was underage and had an internship as a director’s assistant one summer on an indie movie starring an actress known most notably for “learning the art of sex” from Ryan Philippe in one movie. On the 4th of July, the cast went out for dinner and a concert and on our way to the concert, said actress ducked into a bar to use the bathroom. She was in there for a while, so, the concerned assistant that I was, I went to check on her. I got stopped for ID at the door, flubbed my “birthday” and the bouncer used a walkie talkie and literally said, “I need backup.” I ran away.
New Jersey driver’s licenses used to be so awful that the summer I turned 21, I actually got turned down from a bar with my REAL ID. It was a bar that I’d gone to many times with my fake one.
The summer after freshman year of college, I went home and got a summer job as the cashier in a parking lot for Fenway Park. One night, some guys parking their car gave me their extra ticket to the game, and I went over when I got off. When I arrived at the seats, the guys were all sitting there and handed me a beer. “Good thing I have this fake ID,” I said. Turns out they were state troopers.
I once arrived at T.F. Green Airport (in Rhode Island) heading home from college and realized that my real ID was … missing. I had my fake with me, which was good, and it was my name and my picture. Not realizing I could probably talk my way onto the plane without an ID, I did the brave and incredibly stupid thing and just handed the TSA person my fake. An eye was not batted.
My freshman year at of college, I went to Hoboken for the first time to get a fake ID. It cost me like $100 and it was awful (although it did have my picture). The first time I used it, the bouncer looked at me and told me it was fake and then gave it back to me and let me in the bar.
If you had a New York license, you could easy “chalk” the numbers into other numbers by using a red and a white colored pencil. The cards aren’t laminated, so it was easy to change an “86” or “83” into an “80” in, like, two seconds. This was a lot more foolproof than the more obviously fake out-of-state IDs.
Before my sister gave me a copy of her license, she gave me a New York fake ID she’d gotten made with a stranger’s info. If you’re ethnic, it doesn’t really matter who’s on the ID so long as you’re brown. I lost it after a night of immature reveling and was super sad about it. But a few weeks later, my good friend, who was living with strangers that summer in Chapel Hill, said his roommate found an ID of an Indian girl on the street and maybe I could use that for the rest of the summer. IT WAS THE ONE I LOST.
My buddy in high school used to buy us beer with an ID he made with a small laminator. “License” was spelled “Liscence.” It worked for two years.
The first time I used my fake ID was at Bowery Ballroom in New York City. I was underage and the bouncer looked at it, took me down stairs and instead of threatening to call the cops, said, “You know… I have a van out back.” It was totally traumatizing, but he still let me see the show.
My fake was a generic light skinned black woman who didn’t look like me at all, but it worked every time despite the fact it claimed I was 37.
My fake ID was from Scarsdale, N.Y., and the guy behind the counter at the liquor store was from Ithaca. We struck up a friendship about upstate New York — despite the fact that I’d never been there. For two years, I had to keep Googling information about Ithaca and Syracuse — parks, museums, famous restaurants — just so I could keep him from getting suspicious during our conversations. When I turned 21, I never went back to that liquor store.
I bought a fake ID during spring break of my freshman year of college from this shady knock-off Kinkos place in a bad area in Philly. You had to fill out this form with all the requisite information for the ID, but there was also some spots for information you would never have on your driver’s license or would ever want to give out, like Social Security number and mother’s maiden name — basically it was an identity theft scam. Anyhow, being young and an absolute moron, I gave them my Social Security number. Thankfully, I messed up the last four digits — again, because I was a moron.
One time I walked into my regular Korean grocery to buy eight bottles of Night Train liquor, and the owner’s sister — one of my mom’s best friends — was randomly working the counter.
I used a friend’s ID when I was younger and went to a bar to use it, and the bouncer knew my friend on the ID. He then asked my address, and I failed. He let me keep it, though!
My boyfriend gave his fake ID (actually someone else’s ID he was using) to a cop who had approached him for having an open container on the street. The cop wrote out the ticket to the information on the fake ID, and that was the last we ever heard of it. The best part is that the man in the ID was not only about 10 years older than my boyfriend was at that time, but he was also a completely different race.
The first time I ever used my fake ID was with my mom. She thought it was funny that I had one, so she wanted to see it in action. We went to a grocery store in Northern Virginia that sold beer. She had her groceries and checked out in one aisle; I was in the next aisle over with a six-pack and a candy bar. The cashier had never seen an ID from New York, so he called the manager — who happened to be a New York native. He pulled out his ID and started comparing them side-by-side, asking a bunch of questions. (New York had recently changed their IDs, and so I chalked up the differences to the fact that his ID was older.) After about 45 seconds, the manager said it was okay to pass. My mom stood 10 feet away the entire time, watching me and laughing. Thanks, mom.
I used my sister’s real ID (she’s two years older than me). She just reported it lost and got sent a new one with the same picture. It didn’t stop us from going out together though — the only time we were close to being caught was when a waitress noticed we had the same birthday (but apparently didn’t notice the same photo). We were just like, “Yeah, duh! We’re twins — what, can’t you tell?!”
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