We’ve seen you “going out” at night, freshpeople. Don’t worry, we were all awkward like you at some point: handing a bouncer some poorly-made fake and praying you remembered your zip code. The Bwog staff empathizes with you as we share some stories and nuggets of information about the one thing in your wallet you can’t live without…

• If the guy you’re buying from only sells IDs in sets of two, that’s a bad sign. If you (gangly, skinny, not threatening) and your equally unintimidating friends are buying IDs from a guy in a midtown Starbucks and, sweating nervously, the first thing he asks you is if you’re cops, that’s also a bad sign.
• When I got mine it was with a certain teammate downtown in the back of a sketchy unnamed shop. It was in November and eventually it started sleeting and we were all so stressed/tired/hungry from this guy being like “ARE YOU A COP? YA SURE?” and handing over mad cash money to someone we were sure would disappear with it. So much so that we rushed into the first restaurant we found while we were waiting for him to make good on his promise—it was a terrible vegan restaurant. I ate soy cheese dumplings and cried about my life. Literally worst day ever. But now I’m 23 in Delaware and can drink anywhere I want!
• Got my ID from a guy in a frat. The thing is not great; the edges are clearly X-Acto knife work, and the laminate is clearly laminate. But it was only $60, and has never failed me in Morningside. It’s even performed at NYU and beyond. And fraternity customer service is much better than some of the questionable characters students leave Morningside for; when he wasn’t sure which hologram looked better, he just surprised me with two for the price of one!
• I’ve had a slew of IDs that have been lost, taken, or retained and best advice is this: The only ID that will actually work is an older person’s REAL one that looks enough like you and isn’t expired.
• Some bouncers in NYC turned me away. One asked for a bribe. But nobody took my IDs away. Outside New York, I didn’t have the same luck.The first was confiscated by a polite elderly bartender who had served me previously. He examined my ID, looked up at me, and said “thank you this is very fake.”

  The second I lost when visiting a friend who started school a week sooner than I did. Drunk, surrounded by other drunks, and giddy to return to Columbia and start the year, I was overwhelmed with gusto. A police officer passed by. In retrospect, the officer was being a nice guy—making sure everyone was safe and ignoring the herds of drunken underage students swarming around him. But hindsight is 20 20. And sober. When the officer was a couple feet away, I made loud, snorting piggy noises. Neither my friends nor the police officer, who was still well within earshot, were amused. The cop turned around and asked for my ID. I admitted to being underage, but he insisted on going through my wallet. When he found my fake, he took it and walked away.

• I avoided getting a fake for the first few months because I wanted to wait and go in with friends to save money. But we never organized anything, and weeks turned into months of not being able to get in anywhere. Finally, after I got turned away from 1020 for the fifth time in December, I realized I’d have to just get myself an ID. I remembered a number a friendly upperclassmen had given to me during NSOP, along with the warning, “He won’t pick up. Just call him, hang up, and he’ll call you back.” Sure enough, he did, and I found myself awkwardly saying that I wanted something that would scan. He said it was $150 for 2. A few days later, I handed an envelope containing a passport photo (thanks CVS!) and $150 cash to a sketchy looking guy in a subway station, who told me to meet him in two hours. I did, and he was nowhere to be found. Certain I’d been scammed, I frantically called and texted him. An hour later, he showed up, apologized, and handed me two identical IDs and business cards for his fake ID business. Now I can get into even some trendy places downtown.