Platform shoes, these can conceal a small bottle in the platform. Wearable bladder tanks that feel like padded vest. Stuff like this.
Youād be surprised how well Jedi mind tricks work on pat down searchers and how many bottles can be concealed in an innocent looking pom-pom (for a sports event). Itās all about misdirection.
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I understand what you mean. However, I donāt think of it so much as āsavageā as āself-appointed inner geniusā. I think of that āgeniusā every time I see one of those morning-after pics on the net where somebody proudly proclaims āDrunk Me was a genius!ā
As the Sometimes Sober Me who watched Drunk You spend half an hour trying to get cereal in a bowl or pick a fight to impress someone or try to screech your way to free drinks, I can assure you, the genius label is entirely self-certified.
/Drunk Me automatically assumes itās a bad idea if Iām thinking about it drunk
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My favorite misdirection moment was when I snuck my cellphone past security. My brotherās graduation had royalty in attendence in a non-democratic nation where he went to high school. For a bunch of bogus reasons they were not letting cellphones into the ceremony. I wanted to avoid the hassle of the disorganized mess that was going to be cellphone reclamation. I walked through the metal detector with my cellphone in my hand and of course it went off. I just held the phone in my hand while they gave me a pat down and wanded me. Naturally, they completely ignored the fact that I was holding something. Too obvious, I guess. They let me right on through.
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I wonder if assignment(without their usual equipment or special authority) to bouncer duty would be a useful training tool for police officers?
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As a youth, we once injected oranges with vodka to get into a concert.
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Iāve never been kicked out of a bar for being drunk. I stop drinking, and always have, before reaching that point, as the one time I got drunk I found the experience very unpleasant and didnāt touch tequila for a decade after.
I did get kicked out of a few bars as a dumb kid. Whenever my fake ID failed to convince, I would stroll away, circle the block and hop a fence or pick a lock. (This was before ubiquitous CCTV.) Usually Iād have plenty of time to enjoy the band with my friends before the bouncer noticed me inside, if he ever noticed. But whenever they found me and told me I had to leave, Iād politely nod, tell me friends Iād see them later, and proceed my escort to the door. Theyād usually tell me without rancor that they wouldnāt let me back in if I ever returned. I always said I understand, youāre just doing your job, good evening. If I went back, it usually wasnāt that same bouncer on the door and I could get in again, but I never tried my luck twice with the same bouncer. The thing I always found strange was that most bouncers seemed genuinely surprised when saying I donāt know how you got in here butā¦ Surely plenty of people can climb a fence or pick a lock.
I never personally found bouncers to be hotheads, or at least not at the sorts of establishments Iāve frequented. But then Iām white, so there might convey privilege with some (not all) bouncers.
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Ha - what is it with drunk girls and no shoes?
Many years ago we went out for New Years and at the end they were kicking people out and there was this girl with just a dress and no shoes and they wouldnāt let her back in. So I fireman carried her and hailed a cab. When I got her in there, some other guy comes in the cab too. I am like, āWho the fuck are you? Get the fuck out.ā
Turns out she knew the guy or something. I was like, āChrist dude, man up and take care of your friend who has no shoes with slush and snow on the ground and sub freezing temps.ā
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Best thing Iāve heard a ābounceeā say:
āShiiit. Iāve been kicked into better places than this.ā
Walks off.
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Everybody thinks that after their first beer / drink.
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I imagine that any bar right next to any university in Ontario (and really, just about anywhere else for that matter) would see similar results.
Iāve always quite enjoyed the experience of being drunk, and as an inexperienced youth I would often drink too much, too quickly, trying to hit that āsweet spotā where I would overcome my social anxiety and self consciousness and just be able to enjoy myself as quick as possible. Now Iāve learned that a) there are better ways to treat my social anxiety and b) drinking more, faster, doesnāt help me hit the sweet spot any faster, but rather helps me shoot right past it and into ātired, clumsy doofusā territory. Now, the day AFTER, thatās a whole different story, and as I got into my 30ās and could no longer bounce back from a hangover as quickly (read: being completely useless for at least 2 days afterwards), Iāve pretty much given up on drinking-till-I-get-drunk.
Iām sure plenty could climb a fence (and less could pick a lock), but I imagine there were more of them worried about the consequences of being caught by the bouncer (thanks to the reputation that bouncers have for being ignorant hotheads).
It also helps that youāre not a belligerent drunk trying to start fights. In my younger days when Iād hit the āpopularā clubs frequented by the more attractive young ladies (and thus, also the more aggressive young men), it wouldnāt be uncommon at all to see a bouncer (or more than one) dragging some asshole out in a headlock.
You donāt see the profit motive in it.
Some people do. 
ok my new business model - I will take a lot of drugs and then go out with a go-pro to see what happens. My business plan is basically to cover the bail and fines for going on a drug-fueled rampage, and also enough revenue to fund the next one.
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the true art will be when I meet up with this bouncer.
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Well that sure wasnāt Roadhouse!
To be honest, I never liked alcohol at all. Itās saved me a lot of money over the years.
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For my part, I like to be in control of myself, since I know thatās all I can control. Iāve also been something of an epicurean since I was quite little, and once plastered, itās neigh impossible to appreciate sensual experiences, good booze included.
I suppose to me it was an enjoyable game. Since I usually arrived with (or prearranged to meet) anyone I was likely to leave with (Iāve never found bars/pubs good places to meet prospective mates or friends), I approached it as a way to observe revelers in their native habitat (and often support fellow gigging musicians with a friendly face). If young bucks turned their aggression on me, I would either engage them and get to know them for a while, buy them a cheap drink, and/or kill them with politeness. Which depended on whether I deemed them potentially interesting or merely distracting.
Comparative sobriety usually helped as itās easy to confuse aggressive drunkies with a combination of calm strength and civility, to which they generally have no response since all theyāre looking for is a fight.
On only three occasions (out of a couple dozen or so altercations) has it ever been necessary to pacify someone physically, each instance when the man (twice young and once rather more senior) physically accosted ladies in my group. Iām always careful to use a minimum of force and avoid bruising if at all possible (which it usually is since drunkies fight rather worse than even the average untrained belligerent). On two of those occasions, I explained the situation to the responding bouncer and offered that we would retire to elsewhere for the duration of the night, provided the predator was expelled as well. On the third occasion I never got that far, as the bouncer apologized for the recidivist in question (who was apparently a recurring problem for that bar and that bouncer) and left us to our drinks while kicking the groper out. In the last instance, it doubtless helped that we had been admitted without cover because the bandleader for the night had put our names on the list, and was evidently a friend of the bouncer.
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Have you seen the shoes young women are expected to wear, especially when socializing? When they get drunk enough, they lose their inhibition about taking off those required torture devices. Whatās not to understand? 
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Itās why I learned how to sew. Tripps are very good for smuggling, but you need to stitch some extra pockets under the lumpy decorative chains and such if you want to get a good amount of anything in.
Standard Issue Rave-ware circa 2007:
Notice the fishnet pocket just ripe to have an interior pocket sewn to its rear side. Thatās where pills go.
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