by Michael Pomranz
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Important Editor's Note: Although this is a completely fictitious story, it sounds like the whole thing could have easily happened in real life, so just read it and pretend it really happened and you are certain to laugh. I guess one could consider this an odd edition to "Things Always Seem to Happen to Andrew Mosiey," since a) it is not written by Andy and b) it is not really about Andy. However I will forgo this, and continue. When Andrew decided to come down to USC for his spring break, I didn't really have a problem. Hell, I even offered to pick him up from the airport (which by the way was a debacle in and amongst itself that I will not get into). However, when his brother, James, also decided to come out to "tour the campus" I knew trouble was sure to ensue. Thursday night was entertaining with a typical two kegger down at the house. We all got trashed and passed out in our respective places (of which James's was on my floor, an unsightly foot-deep conglomerate of everything from clothing to basketballs. Needless to say he was uncomfortable). Friday night was a little more rowdy. Every year USC sponsers "Songfest," a philanthropy event. If we win, TKE always manages to hold a large rambunctious party. If we lose, we hold a small party. We won. And let the drinking ensue! Still, having a party with two kegs and the best sorority at USC was not satisfying for young James. He was determined to go to his first bar. (No, we do not count getting served in McCarey's in Blue Bell, PA as a real bar.) To digress: Earlier, Andy and I pondered how we could obtain a fake ID for him if we wanted to go to a bar. He had one, but it didn't look much like him. So we wandered the frat until we found a suitable match. Back to the scene: James, ID-less at the age of 16 (a tragedy I might add), was in desperate need of some identification. So to help him out, one of my frat brothers just gave him his old ID of a kid that seemed to increasingly not look like himself. Hell, the 9-0 would of let him in with a library card. The bar was closed.  But the story does not end there... On his return to home (that being the much talked about Blue Bell), James decided to test the power of his new identification. Being that "Beer and Soda" has never served anyone underage or with a fake ID (insert laughter here), he was denied. And, as he was driving away, the distributor wrote down his licence plate number. James noticed this and had a feeling there might be repercussions. He went over to his friend's house and began to quickly utilize his computer. Sure enough, mother and father called telling him to drive right home. He did. Upon arriving, his parents were irate! They immediately accosted him about their phone call from the fine Whitpain police. Lucky for him though, this tale is not what it seems. James was simply doing a "research project" on the ability of underage kids to get alcohol--and he had brought plenty of collaborating evidence with him from his friends house. His parents accepted this, but still had a serious discussion about drinking. I have always thought of James as a scholar. The End. Oh yeah, and all this time Andrew Moisey was in Berkeley...uh...painting...something.
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