The night I turned 21, I swaggered into a college watering hole in Camden, N.J. No longer would I flash a doctored Connecticut license and pose as a haggard 42-year-old Stonington man named Kurt. At the stroke of midnight, I could buy a beer legally.
The barkeep slid my license back. “I can’t serve you,” he said. He thought my real ID was fake. Who, after all, has February 29 for their birthday? I protested, but it was no use. “Plus,” he said. “It’s February 28. Come back tomorrow.”
Read the rest over at The Atlantic here.