Being born later than the rest of your friends was only a struggle once it came to the legal drinking age. Everyone was already 21, but you? Still the baby of the group.

Usually you just had to sit out when your friends went to clubs or a bar. Until you got your hands on an oddly real-looking fake id. It was from a friend of a friend— a little shady —but you were gonna take what you could get.

On another night out, you and your friends waited in line at the entrance of a club. You handed your id to the bouncer at the door as casually as you can. He kisses his teeth, glancing between you and the card with narrowed eyes.

“Mind telling me when your birthday is, toots?”