* New Day * — Ever Had an Alias or Another Persona? Do You Live in Mexico? Seattle? Events 4 You!

Every day is a new day and with that, a new opportunity. EVERYONE is welcome and please join us each morning at 7:30 AM PACIFIC to tell us what you're working on, share your show & tell, vent, whatever you want...   ...this is an open thread. Nothing is off topic.

Unless you're using your real name here you already have at least one alias. What personas have you used elsewhere?

At age 19 I was hanging out with an older crowd, mostly people in their mid to late 20's who had already finished college. At and after work I hung out with doctors and older technicians; away from work I dated a recently-graduated pharmacist and hung out with his friends. One thing all these friends had that I didn't was the ability to hang out in adult-only venues. We would all go out dancing in discos, or go to another favored hangout, a now defunct college bar called The Bull and Mouth. The Bull was great for my young professional friends, featuring foosball tables, dozens of pinball games, loud music, and outrageous food specials like a basket of five truly delicious tacos for only a buck.

My underage status was always an issue, although I was often accepted as part of the group, especially if we arrived before the doorman. The first time I got carded and turned away from the Bull and Mouth was a humiliating experience, though, and as we headed back home I was determined to get my hands on a foolproof fake ID.

My first attempt took place on the surgical floor during a lull in work. Working carefully with a biopsy punch, designed to lift just the topmost layer of skin without damaging the underlying layers, I painstakingly lifted out and transposed one number from my address and another number from my date of birth on my California driver's license without punching all the way through the layers. The result looked seamless to me, until the surgical tech who was my accomplice shook his head and pointed out the obvious: "This will only work if they don't shine a flashlight under it." That was a chance I wasn't willing to take.

As my friends continued heading off to the Bull and the dance floors without me I got more determined than ever. And then, watching a 60 Minutes show one Sunday night that described how people reinvented themselves with false identities, the answer came to me.

I went through the family's metal lockbox that held our old report cards and other notices and pulled out the birth certificate of my sister Marnie* who had died at 18 months old, two years before I was born. I presented this at the DMV and applied for a California Identity card, a card that looked just like a driver's license and provided proof of identity for non-drivers. The clerk looked at my birth certificate, took my thumbprint, snapped my picture, and told me my ID card would arrive in the mail in a few weeks. The next time I joined my friends at the Bull and Mouth I confidently handed over my ID card to the same doorman who had previously booted me. He gave me the hairy eyeball, shone his flashlight under the ID, read it carefully, then handed it back to me, saying "Welcome back, Marnie," with heavy sarcasm. As I'd hoped it was not in his interest to challenge a perfect ID. The bar would make money, and his butt (and their liquor license) were covered in case the ABC showed up.

I used that fake ID for the next year and burned it on my 21st birthday, not wanting to tempt the fates any further than I already had. Now of course it's beyond obvious this method wouldn't work in today's computerized database world, and it amazes me the lengths I went to be able to hang out with my friends.

Sometimes I wonder what Marnie might have done with her resurrected life.