Little white lies can get you a long way, or at least help you to avoid a long line.
From a 20-something, Austinite girl:
“I couldn’t get into the Vice Magazine party held downtown at an empty office building last year. The party didn’t start until midnight, and while I did RSVP, none of my 5 girlfriends remembered to get their names on the list. We waited outside for almost an hour, hoping to get into a party where we didn’t even especially like either of the bands (Cheeseburger and Les Savy Fav) playing, but did want to drink for free. My friend pushed her way to the front while yelling ‘We are the band! We are playing! Don’t know you who we are?’ Did we look like asssholes? Yes. Did we lie and call ourselves an all-girl experimental rock group named Bitch Magic? Yes. Did the door person believe us, let us in before hundreds of others standing in the street, and did we get all the free sugary booze we could drink? Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Lying about who you are helps when you have a badge of some sort. It doesn’t have to real. It doesn’t have even have your real face or name on it, just a name and face. A tall, blonde male friend passed as a short Asian girl one year — and it worked. It doesn’t matter because wearing something laminated around your neck must mean you’re somebody important.
A former Fader Fort volunteer tells his story:
“I volunteered to work at the Levi’s Fadar Fort in ’08, which was basically just long days and nights of manual labor in exchange for meeting a few artists, drinking, and getting a number of non-useful items with the Levi’s logo printed all over them. The Fader badge did come in handy when I tried to get into another packed party, all I did was tell the door guy: ‘I work for Fader (flashing the badge quickly),’ soon I had a beer in hand.”
Sometimes lists don’t mean a thing, but with RSVPster lists don’t make you sweat.
I am not a real writer.
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