Actually, the ID was real. It just wasn’t mine.

It had belonged to my friend’s ex-girlfriend, a woman named Cindy. Cindy and I didn’t look all that much alike, but we both had blond hair, blue eyes, and were of similar height.

She, of course, was older by a few years. That’s really all I (and the bartenders) needed.

I know, you’re all, “So what?”

Be patient, Grasshopper.

I’d hang out at a few select bars in Los Gatos: Number One Broadway, Carry Nation’s, C. B. Hannegan’s, The Last Call (long closed), and finally Pedro’s.

Just a few. I was selective.

There are other bars in Los Gatos, you know.

Fine, whatever.

Moving on…

Anyhoo, everyone got to know me by the name on the ID, “Cindy”. I knew the bartenders (obviously, since I was a regular), so I *had* to use the name on the ID with them around. Then I’d meet people and have to tell them my name was Cindy.

Oh, did I forget to mention I also lived and worked in this same SMALL town?

Walking around town (not much need to drive when you live, work and drink in the same small place… also helps avoid a DUI.), every now and then I would run into someone I’d met at one of the bars. They’d call me by my fake ID name, ‘Cindy’. Sometimes I was with friends who knew my real name. Ooops.

Once, shortly after a birthday, a few of my friends from the bar, people who knew me as “Cindy”, came by my place to pick me up. I didn’t think about the birthday cards I had displayed on the end table. While waiting for me to get my stuff, one of them started reading the cards… ‘Dear (my real name)…’

In the words of Ricky Ricardo, ‘Lucy, you got some ‘splainin’ to do!’

No, I did not see this coming.

Hey, too much alcohol does bad things to your brain.

Time for another story… Pedro’s and Cruising the Los Gatos Strip

You used to be able to “cruise” the main street in Los Gatos. Friday and Saturday nights everyone would get in their hot rods and classic cars and cruise the strip. We’d go slowly around and around, bumper to bumper, checking out the cars and all the people. I’m not sure why, but we had a great time doing this every weekend for hours at a time. (I still love car shows and the drag races.)

People would stand on the sidewalk, as well, just watching everyone cruise by. Pedro’s let us drink out front of the restaurant. We had to stay within a certain area, but we were right at the sidewalk’s edge.

Pedro’s was the best place to watch everyone cruise, AND drink the whole time. It was awesome. I made great use of my fake ID.

The only problem was getting drinks as quickly as we could drink them in the crowded establishment. It took forever for the waitresses to come out and take drink orders, let alone bring them back. And even then, they would all charge different prices for the same drink… and the fluctuating price was never in our favor.

When we’d get really frustrated with the service, we would go inside and order at the bar. But this meant losing your great viewing spot at the edge of the sidewalk, the one you’d worked hard to get by being there early.

But one day I had a brilliant idea. I went to the bar, and ordered my usual Margarita just a little differently….

Me, to the bartender, “I’d like a carafe of Margaritas, salt the rim of the carafe, and stick a straw in it.”

Bartender: Immediately starts pouring the Margarita mix into the carafe – without salting the rim – as if he didn’t comprehend my excellent plan.

I said, “No, no. Salt the rim of the carafe first, then add the liquid, and put a straw in it.”

Bartender: “Ohhhh.” (Probably thinking: We’ve got a live one here.)

When I came back out to the patio area, everyone thought I was pure genius.

Or pure “lush”.

But they made nice noises. I was now Queen of the Cruise-watching Pedro’s Lushes.

Ah, what a special time that was. One minute ticked off the clock of my allotted fifteen minutes of fame right then and there.

Now before you all go alerting Child Protective Services, remember: I don’t have a kid.

And this was a looong time ago.

And I’ve since given up drinking. Obviously.

You see, anyone who can think of something as AWESOME as salting the rim of the carafe in order to make fewer trips to the bar, and does this while drinking, clearly graduates Drinking School with flying colors.

Or with a police escort. I don’t really remember which.