(Editor’s note: black_orient is my Yahoo ID.)

gjbfk dffgg (5/15/2006 4:54:11 PM): hello
gjbfk dffgg (5/15/2006 4:54:12 PM): how r u ?
black_orient (5/15/2006 4:54:31 PM): i am fine
gjbfk dffgg (5/15/2006 4:54:59 PM): where wr u fr such a long time
black_orient (5/15/2006 4:55:29 PM): i dn rely noe
gjbfk dffgg (5/15/2006 4:55:40 PM): ]
black_orient (5/15/2006 4:55:45 PM):
black_orient (5/15/2006 4:56:41 PM): where wr u
gjbfk dffgg (5/15/2006 4:56:58 PM): incredibleIndia
black_orient (5/15/2006 4:57:17 PM): wowzersIsee
gjbfk dffgg (5/15/2006 4:57:28 PM): yea
gjbfk dffgg (5/15/2006 4:57:31 PM): verse
black_orient (5/15/2006 4:57:59 PM): how is the chappatti?
(no reply)

    The day before yesterday, I had a classic margarita. A random back-to-school celebration. Class commences tomorrow, so, you readers might miss me for a while.

    My dad handed me the letter with my exam results. The tribe has spoken. I got an A+ for Sociology. After studying 3 alien chapters (I didn’t pay attention in class back then ) in less than 13 hours. Then I had a B+ for Philosophy, B for Interpersonal Communication (tight competition), and a C- for World Religion. Sigh. Oh well.

    My fucked up CGPA only increased by 0.1 percent.

    Back to my classic margarita.

    I went to Chilli’s with Shenji and Pin, feeling all fine and dandy. FA finals was on and Liverpool was leading by 2-0 (muaha muaha ). We placed our orders (Pin said that the waiter looked like a friend of hers and that he’s “cute”.) and soon, this waiter who looked like a Cerekarama extra approached us.

    “Did you order a Raspberrita (Author’s note: Or something like that)?” asked Cerekarama to Shenji.

    “Yes,” he replied.

    “Can I see your I/C (identification card)?”

 

 

!!o.O!!!

 

    Wtf? Since when do restaurants check IDs? Never mind, stay calm.

    “I didn’t bring my I/C, but would you accept my driving licence instead?” said Shenji.

    “Yes.”

    Scanned.

    “And did you order a Presidente Margarita?”

    “I did.” I said boldly.
“May I check your I/C, please?”

    Pin, who was too happy that Liverpool scored again (3-0. ) suddenly complained. I was quite relieved.

    “Har? I don’t wanna show my I/C…I don’t like my I/C photo…” She whined.

    Cerekarama checked it anyway.

    “I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t serve you alcohol because you’re underage.”

    “What??”

    I gave a weak laugh.

    “But my birthday’s next month! I’m turning 18 next month!!”   

    “I’m sorry, miss.”

    “Haiya, nevermind la. But can you gimme another glass of Sprite?”   

    “Sure.”

    Then, I couldn’t escape the inevitable doom.

    “And you, miss?”

    “I’m sorry that did not bring my I/C and my driving licence but I can tell you my I/C number.”

    I recited with a pause at the last four digits because I was used to memorizing my I/C number in Mandarin. This might have caused suspicion.

    “You can check my I/C number right now if you want. And call my mum too for verification.”   

    “Let me check with the manager.” He sounded quite uncertain.   

    “Sure.”

    After he left, I was rather disappointed with myself. I have never been rejected for alcohol before. Do I look like I’m underage? I even wore friggin’ eyeliner, man. People usually guess that I’m at least 20 years old. Even my ex-neighbours who were in their late 20s and early 30s even thought that I was at least 20 years old, in terms of demeanour and actions. On the other hand, Nathan looked at my photo and said that I looked about 16 instead of 19. Yeah, sure, that’s because he’s a White Caucasian. Caucasians tend look ahead of their age, compared to us Asians. So yeah, maybe, if my bartender was a Caucasian, he might have thought me to be of extra legal age.

    But get this: All my previous bartenders were fucking Malaysians.

    Sigh. Why the fuck did I not bring any ID out??? Knnccb

    Never mind, never mind. I was sure that they were reasonable people and since that I am in fact of a very legal age (foreigners, feel jealous, please, for our legal drinking age here in Malaysia is not 21, but 18 ), so I have no reason to feel qualms about getting what I want, right?

    Pin wailed about not getting her blackcurrant flavoured Absolute Vodka.

    “I can’t believe this, man. I’m paying six bucks for some Sprite and not getting anything to spike it in return!”

    Soon, the cute Chinese waiter was back.

    “Excuse me but you guys ordered some alcohol but did not bring your I/Cs, right?” 

    “I showed my driver’s licence,” Shenji said.  

    “Okay, but for the rest of you, I’m sorry but we can’t serve you alcohol.”

    “I’m aware of that,” I said. “I suspect that your colleague suspected that I was underage and so he asked for my I/C. But I did not bring it along with me. Nor did I bring my driving licence. But I told him my I/C number and even told him to check with my parents if he wanted to.”

    I was looking at him right in the eyes all the while. He looked quite unnerved.

    “Yes, but miss–” 

    “I understand the use of the alcohol policy. It’s to protect the safety of the drinker and to lower the accident rates on the road, right?”

    He gave an uncertain nod.

    “I myself don’t want to die early, so clearly, I know what I’m doing. Now can we please have our alcohol? I have my phone right here and I can call my parents so that you can talk to them–” 

    “Um, no, miss.” 

    “No, really, I can call my mum right now.”

    A long pause. Uncertain smile. My friends found the table very fascinating to look at.

    “So, you want your Presidente Margarita?” 

    “Yes, thank you.”

    He hurried off.

    “Wah!! I wish I had that attitude, man! So that I can say: ‘I’m going to turn 18 soon, man! I’ve never been rejected for alcohol before and now you’re telling me that you can’t serve me alcohol?? Where is my human right? UDHR Article #1: All humans have equal freedom and rights! What kind of pub doesnt have Absolute Vodka ‘currant flavour anyway??”

    I sighed. They chided me for not bringing out any ID. I know, I know. It’s just that when one is so used to not needing to show any ID for so long (except when I’m in college la. I have to show my student ID to enter the library), one really doesn’t expect to be pounced on for IDs. When I said that, both Shenji and Pin started berating me with the importance of always having IDs along whenever one is out of the house.

    “Seriously, you may never know if you’re held up because they think you’re some mainland Chinese, or for your case, Korean, immigrant or not!!”

    Meh.

    Soon, this Indian guy appeared next to our table. I can’t help thinking that this was some sort of Rukun Negara thing. You know, perpaduan rakyat* and all that. Chinese, Malay, Indian. Seems like he’s the real manager. The cute waiter’s superior or something. He seemed stern, this one.

    “What’s this I hear about not having I/Cs and ordering alcohol?”

    Shenji showed his driving licence once more.

    “This is a Malaysian one?”

    Yes, wasn’t it obvious? Duh.

    He turned to me. Same question as before. I repeated my answers as patiently as humanly possible.

    “I don’t see the point of showing my I/C, when I’m clearly overage, and I wholly allowed you to check on me whenever you want. I even asked you to check with my parents if you want to. If you really want the I/C, I can ask my parents to purposely bring my I/C from home, just to show you that I’m of legal age. Furthermore, our designated driver here (Author’s note: I gestured to Shenji. But it was his Dad who was going to pick us up anyway), next to me, is also overage, and he has shown you his driving licence.”

    The asshole just went like: “I cannot let you drink unless you show me your I/C.”

 

    Like a freaking Terminator.

 

 

@#$%^&*!

 

 

    I told my friends to finish up the bottomless nachos and head elsewhere for some real tani session*, where nobody would discriminate us based on our age. Heck, I don’t even see the asshole checking up on those Heineken-drinking adults for their IDs.

    Man. That feeling of rejection, that feeling of not getting your alco fix, that emptiness, that futile feeling….is exactly what I felt on this New Year’s eve (bloody bar closed after the Countdown). But I’m not alcoholic. (Refer to cocktail recipe #57, please and thanks)

 

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*Tani session: (Manglish slang) Alco slaughter session
Perpaduan rakyat: (Malay) Racial intergrity