An Afternoon in the Life of The Man

I'm not saying that I was a saint growing up. I'm not even saying that I was the average teen. I had my good points, but I had some smudges that to this day I still wouldn't tell my mother. I started smoking cigarettes at 14, pot at 16, I dropped acid for the first time at 17, and was that kid wearing a black trench coat and combat boots that the police had to chase away from the mall for spooking too many customers.

That's why it's difficult for me to admit this:

My name is Mike, and I am The Man.

Yes, The Man, as in "fuck The Man" and "down with The Man".

Kids frequently hang out in front of the restaurant with their friends, some with skateboards, some without. Apparently, the end of the shopping center is the prime spot for kids to hang out, because it's easier to run around back if somebody is spotted by The Man or any of his Associates. Yes, I've chased them off, and I felt awful about it. Turncoat! Hypocrite! Traitor, Rat-Fink, Benedict Arnold, Judas Iscariot! These names come to mind as the door closes behind me and the kids skate off to their next perch.

Today, I took some ID's. Pretty good fakes, if you ask me, but NC ID's are almost impossible to fix as long as you've got a brain and a good light source.

"It's real, I don't know what you're taking about."

"The expiration date doesn't match up, sweetheart. How about you, where's your ID?"

"I don't have one."

"Really? That's not what your server said. I'll make you a deal. You guys cooperate, and I won't turn in her ID to the A.L.E. She won't lose her ID for 2 years."

"Preston, come on, give it to him! I don't want to lose my ID for the next two years!"

"No. It's my ID. You're not going to take it away from me."

"Okay, let's try it this way, hand over the ID or I'll call the cops. I'm sure they'd have a field day with this one."

"I don't have an ID."

"Preston, come on, please!! I'm gonna lose my license!!"

"No."

"Alright, I guess I'll just have to call the police on this one."

I walked over to the phone, trying not to show the slight limp I've developed whilst recovering from the loss of Lou the Appendix.

"Mike," Sadie calls, arm outstretched, grasping the miscreant's fake ID. "Here you go. He gave it up."

"Tab them out and make them pay for the alcohol they wasted. They're not allowed back."

I called the A.L.E. anyway. I can be a spiteful bastard when I want to be. Danielle and Preston will have to explain to their parents what was so stressful about school on Thursday that they just had to hit the bar before heading home. "Man, study hall was a bitch today!" I can imagine them saying. "Mr. Willis just wouldn't lay off me about the Preamble to the Constitution. Jeez, I just couldn't wait until lunch so I could sneak off for a smoke behind D building!"

It is my cross to bear, this new status of oppression I've come to adopt. It's only fair, considering the youthful hi-jinks we played upon the generations before us. An endless cycle, and a sure sign that I've finally begun to grow up. I just hope it's not too late to remember to have fun along the way.