I was never arrested for underage drinking but I got giggling silly a couple times before I graduated high school. I worked after school (12th grade, Garner, N.C.) in a little gas station that also sold beer along with gas and oil and nabs (B.R. Poole's Esso station on Garner Road, right across the street from the high school). There were two or three old car seats scattered around for the patrons and was the most popular place to stop in that little town, and was also the unofficial police station. The chief of police spent a good bit of time there and a couple of state troopers traded there, gas and oil and wash jobs for their personal cars. I became a trusted employee and sometimes the bossman said he was calling it a day and told me to lock up at quitting time. So I hung around pumping gas and selling soda pops, nabs and beer to anyone who came in, including the chief and troopers. (A few times I helped myself to a six pack or two at closing time and my buddy and I went to the local "Toot 'n Tell It" and made fools of ourselves.)
Just before graduation -- one day when I was stocking the beer cooler -- bossman asked what I planned to do after graduation. I told him not much, other than registering for the draft. "You ain't registered yet?" he asked. "Nah," says I, "I won't be 18 until the middle of August."
Bossman nearly dropped over with apoplexy. "I thought you were 18 already!" he said as he grabbed me and pulled me from behind the counter. And from that day on I was never allowed to sell beer.
--We live so long as we are remembered... old German adage.