by Anonymous (“I want to actually go back some day”)
She was a bridesmaid.
She was the groom’s sister.
She was months shy of 21…
…she was coming to the bachelorette weekend in Nashville.
First night. First fake ID. Confiscated at the first bar.
Second night. Second fake ID. Confiscated… but retrieved by slipping the bouncer some bills.
Here’s the thing: A perk of being part of a group of girls on a night out in Music City, ‘Woo’-ing around a young, not-so-eligible future bride decorated in requisite veil and sash meant you just didn’t buy drinks. Ever. But dropping Jacksons to every bouncer on Broad Street was still not in our budget. Nor was bail money.
We needed a new plan.
Second night. Second bar. Barely a glance from the bouncer at the ID of the soon-to-be bride excitedly walking in wearing her tiara-accented veil and ‘Future Bride’ sash…
…Zero notion that both were borrowed from the true – over 21 – bride-to-be.
A truly Cash(ville) money move.