> ## Content Index
> Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.smdp.com/llms.txt
> Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further.

# DP INVESTIGATION Scoring a 6-pack six months early takes persistence
- URL: https://www.smdp.com/dp-investigation-scoring-a-6-pack-six-months-early-takes-persistence/
- Published: 2007-03-31T15:00:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-24T00:20:16.000Z
- Author: Guest Author
- Tags: Business, Montana, #archive-import

*By IRENE MANAHAN Special to the Daily Press*

SANTA MONICA — I traveled far and wide to score this 6-pack of Pyramid Hefeweizen that my colleagues are enjoying. Unfortunately, I’m too young to drink it.

Down Montana Avenue, up Pico Boulevard, back toward Main Street, twice up Lincoln Boulevard... liquor stores dot the city. At 20, I’m just six months shy of a life of gambling, booze and whatever else you 21-and-over folk are into.

But on Thursday, I was on a mission to score some hooch, as well as put the stores to the test — and oh baby, I was all over this assignment.

It was a nice, warm day, and I was feeling risky. “There has got to be at least one liquor store in Santa Monica that will sell me alcohol,” I thought.

I decided I’d try for a six-pack of beer. Hard liquor? Too obvious.Wine? They’d never believe me.I’ll wear my old cap with oversized sunglasses.“Yeah, that’s cool,”I thought.And I was off.

Some of my first stops were on Montana Avenue. I knew I’d seen a few liquor stores in these parts.

Eureka! I stepped out my car, ever so smoothly, walked in and browsed the shelves.I must have looked like a liquor connoisseur. I grabbed a six-pack of White Stripe.

The man at the counter was probably 45 years old. I suddenly got nervous. Before walking up, I stopped at the magazine rack.

Nice, I thought. Like that wasn’t totally obvious! Ugh, this was going to be harder than I thought.

“May I please see your I.D.?” he asked as he rang up the lager.

I reached into my purse. I pulled out my wallet and rummaged through credit cards and receipts.

“I can’t seem to find it,” I told him, still trying to play it cool.

He waited. He already had it bagged. The line behind me began to grow.

“I’m so sorry, I must have left it somewhere,” I said.“I don’t have it.”

I stared at him sweetly.He looked upset and canceled the order.

“No license, no liquor.” Next.

What was the problem? I sat in my car contemplating. Next time: Don’t obviously freak out before getting to the counter!

Next up, Pico Boulevard. It was right by Santa Monica College, so I didn’t know if this would fly. After all, it was only noon.

I walked in and greeted the cashier upon entering. To the beers!

This clerk was maybe 50-years-young. “Take your time,” he offered as he watched me frantically scramble through my purse.

I confidently tried to persuade him that I could just tell him my birthdate: “September 19, 1985 - 5 -5!” I repeated in my head. I’m 21 now and turning 22 this year.

Denied again. Head low, I walked back to my car. Then it hit me — I look like a baby! I grabbed my make-up bag — foundation, blush, bronzer, mascara and, finally, a lick of gloss.

I thought about the hot pink T-shirt I was wearing, a little too cute. I took it off revealing an almost see-through white long-sleeved blouse. I felt like now I was on to something.A final mirror check.

“Oh yeah, that’s a 21-year-old!”I thought. I blew myself kiss.

I drove to Main Street. They say sex sells. So maybe if I play sexy,this guy will sell me a sixer, I thought.

I strolled in confidently. “Need help?” asked a young stock boy. “No thanks. I know what I’m looking for,”I replied with a wink.

I approached the counter, puckering my lips and pulling my shirt down.

A woman. This was almost hopeless. My adventures were long and often embarassing. I spent three hours lying to 10 liquor stores without giving up, but the story doesn’t end there. At some point amid my quest, er investigation, I happened to score.

I hit up Lincoln Boulevard. Sheer white long-sleeves, same dark jeans, the old hat and brown sunglasses. I inconspicuously placed an icy six-pack of Pyramid Hefeweizen on the counter and waited for the inevitable rejection. “$8.49,”said the 20-something man behind the counter.

*Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on March 31, 2007.* [Read the original PDF.](https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/smdp%5Fbackissues/033107.pdf?ref=smdp.com)