Minor Possesion

I'm not sure what triggered this memory.

In junior high and high school, getting beer on weekend nights was key. At first our process was lackluster, but over several years it was refined. Here is how it progressed.

The junior high years.

Junior high was rough in the getting liquor department. We were limited to foot traffic, bicycles, or the kindness of older brothers. At first we started using the older brothers of neighborhood kids. For the small fee of twenty dollars they would get a sixer for you. It didn't take long to realize this was a jip. Also, when you asked them, they often would hit you. I wasn't a fan of this. We then moved on to an equally dangerous situation. Up the road from my house lived the town karate instructor. We used to go to his house to jump on the trampoline. We also knew that he left his garage unlocked and that he had a fridge full of beer. In desperate situations, we would sneak in and steal his beer. This shit was pretty scary though. After all, he knew karate. Then we struck paydirt around eighth grade. Since we snuck out a lot, we would spend the nights walking around looking in the back of pickup tricks. In a small southern indiana town, coolers in the back up of pickups were always abundant. If you found a pickup with a boat trailer attached you were 100% guaranteed to find a cooler jam packed with old milwaukee. These methods got us through until high school, when we started driving.

High School.

This was cake. Finding somebody to by beer usually took a whole ten minutes of time. All you had to do was drive to the X-market parking lot and sit. Someone showed up. If that failed, Vern Tinsley would get it for you (if his back wasn't out). In extreme cases you just walked into the L store slapped a case up on the counter. The clerk would be all like "ID!". Since most L store clerks are dumb and can't do quick math, you just show them your liscence. 90% of the time they would sell it to you.

In high school we were all about the Little King's 40 oz. ers of malt liquor. Barry's parents went out of town one snowy weekend. We all bought 40oz'ers and were chillin. Nick Smith wanted to be cool so he bought two 64 oz'ers. Everyone was telling him, dude, you can't handle two 64s. He was that kind of guy though. Around 12:30 everyone is drunk and laying around. Nick says, "I don't feel good." Barry yells, "You motherfucker! We told you. If you have to ralph, do it outside on the patio. " Nick promptly jumps up, runs to the sliding glass door and yacks out 128 oz's of malt liquor. Unfortunately, he neglected to open the sliding glass door first so in essence he created a wall of yak, slowly oozing to the floor.

Gross.