M Club
Jakarta, Indonesia
1995
So I'm 17 years old, living overseas and playing out the home stretch of senior year. Exams are wrapping up and everyone is just hanging out and enjoying the last weeks before graduation when we'll all split and go back to our respective countries.
M Club was one of the few large dance clubs downtown and was a favorite for the expats. Jakarta had no drinking age at that time, but I guess I was short on cash because I decided to empty out a clear water bottle and fill it with clear liquor to take with me.
My super secret method worked all night. Everyone said their goodbyes and I hung back a few minutes alone in the club just enjoying the buzz and the music. Just as I was getting a little pensive about leaving Jakarta, I get a tap on the shoulder from a very large bouncer who wants to know what's in the bottle. I tell him "it's just water, I'll throw it out". I had roused from my daydreaming and was ready to call it a night. I put it in the nearby trashcan and casually walk to the door. I turn back about halfway there and see him digging through the trash. Crap.
Before I can get to the door, I am cut off by a serious looking Indonesian who tells me in clear english that I'll need to follow him. I'm not terribly worried yet, but the fact that I'm being led to the small, dimly lit, "back room" doesn't strike me as a good sign. Apparently, Jakarta is cracking down on drug dealers (a crime punishable with the death penalty) and my slick method of hiding the bottle under my shirt has convinced them that I really know what I'm doing and thus must be into worse things.
I think what saved me, 2 hours of interrogation later, was that I didn't have any fake id on me (not that I'd need it) and that I really was just a naive kid who didn't think through the ramifications of breaking the law in a foreign country still ruled by a dictator.
The funny thing was how it all ended. Once the guy was convinced I was clean, he asked the bouncer to bring the bottle back in. He poured it into a glass and gave it to me to take back into the club, taking only enough money from my wallet to pay for it. Confused, I walked back in and forced myself to drink slowly for the next few minutes. I would've downed it in two seconds, but somehow it felt like that would have been rude since we had apparently smoothed things over and I was once again a guest in their establishment.
10 minutes was enough. I hopped in a cab home and, with a not altogether unpleasant feeling of adrenaline and 2 shots worth of new buzz, visualized the call I didn't make to my parents from an Indonesian jail.
