Tonight was a fun experience. I was hanging out with a few of my friends who were home from college. I don't drink, but they do, and I have zero problems with my friends drinking responsibly. They were bored, and I had promised one of them that I'd buy her alcohol at some point, and I was the only one over 21, so what the hell. I went to a state store and got some cheap vodka for them (Woohoo, I'm admitting to being a felon on my website!). We came back to one friend's house, they all did a couple of shots, and then we went out bowling. (Yes, I drove. As I said, drinking responsibly.)
On the way back from the bowling alley, the friend whose house we were based at for the evening called his dad. On the phone, the dad asked if we had been drinking. My friend's answer: "Of course not." And suddenly I'm thrust into a situation that I've only seen in the movies, and I never thought I'd have to live, as a non-drinker.
My friend being off the phone, we all start trying to figure this out. Did he sound drunk on the phone? No. Were we making too much noise in the car while he was on the phone? No, and that wouldn't mean anything anyway. Did we forget to put the shot glasses away? Nope. The bottle itself? Safely hidden where it would never be found. Did we clean up any spills afterwards? Spotless. How the hell is this happening? I'm reminded of one of my favorite quotes from My So-Called Life: "It's so weird how parents can, out of nowhere, turn psychic. It's unnerving."
And then we figured it out. The paper bag which the bottle came in was left on the counter. With the receipt on top. "Wine and Spirits Shoppe. Cheap Vodka: $6.99. Sales tax: $0.42. Total: $7.41." Idiots: 100%.
So, what next? Come up with a plausible lie, of course. That didn't take long. I'm of legal age. So we decided that I just bought some vodka for a party down here at school. And before we went bowling, we stopped at my dorm room to drop it off. Why'd we take it out of the bag, and leave the bag? We decided that "dunno" is a plausible answer for that one.
And we were done, and the story worked fine, and I feel really dirty now. But I guess this was just part of growing up. A ritual of passage, or something like that. I too have now lied about alcohol, and I am now one step closer to being a true American.