As most of my friends know, I was charged with driving while under the influence many years ago. Sadly on this particular night, I actually didn't deserve it...unfortunately not a true statement on a few previous occasions in my lifetime.
After returning to my parents home to celebrate Thanksgiving which just happened to coincide with my birthday, I had met several friends at a local bar. In my defense, I did everything right on this particular night. I made sure we all had a designated driver to get us home safely....a step I often skipped in the past. I was actually proud of myself for putting safety first so when I arrived at the bar before him, I began drinking without reservation.
I've got to admit, I enjoy drinking. Honestly, I like everything about it. I like the taste, the way it makes me feel, the excessive fun I have...all of it, even if I don't always remember it all the next day. I'd had three drinks when the DD finally blew into the bar like a tornado, laughing loudly with a couple of his friends. Sober he was not. They'd just finished a bowling tournament, tossing more than just balls around for the last few hours. Quietly I pushed my last drink aside, knowing I had been demoted to designated driver. All my friends were drinking with gusto so I knew they'd object vigorously if I didn't continue to celebrate. Pulling the bartender aside, I instructed her to leave the Crown Royal out of my Crown and Diet Coke for the rest of the evening, trusting no one would be the wiser. My plan worked like clockwork and I even had as much fun as I would have under the influence...well, almost. It wasn't until last call was announced that the problem begin. A friend who also drinks Crown and Diet Coke had several untouched drinks sitting in front of her. This isn't unusual when there's a large group of people constantly buying rounds for the table. Since my drinks were pure soda, I had done a pretty good job of keeping up with my drinks so it looked like I was in a position to help her finish her last ones. But as determined as I was to not drink them, she was just as determined I would. She even threatened to dump a drink on me, all in fun of course, yet in our "struggle", I ended up with a soaking wet sleeve. Not a big deal. I tried to wring it out as much as I could and at least it got rid of one drink.
After the customary announcement of "you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here" was shouted out by the bartender, we all headed out into the freezing November night. Several people collapsed into my car and we quickly began the drop off process. It only took about 45 minutes to get everyone safely home and soon I was within few miles of my parent's farm. I had noticed a cop following me for several miles but didn't give it much thought. It was very early in the wee hours of the morning and I hadn't seen a single car on this stretch of road so I assumed he had nothing better to do. I watched my speed and even stopped at all the stop signs to wait for no one to go by. Needless to say, I was a bit shocked when his lights came on.
I was annoyed at being harassed but since I knew I was sober, I wasn't concerned. Except for one thing. Remember the spilled drink on my sleeve? I knew it would be hard to explain why my car smelled like a brewery. The highway patrolman walked up to my window and began asking all the typical questions. Then he made me get out of the car to perform all the sobriety rituals of walking a straight line, counting backwards by threes, standing on one leg while touching my nose, etc etc etc. I even had to breathe into a breath-a-lizer machine. Much to his chagrin, I passed all tests but since he's the law, he decided I was intoxicated anyway and arrested me.
It took several thousand dollars and nearly a year to get the case thrown out. It actually felt quite satisfying to see the judge's irritation at the police department for wasting the court's time. It would have been even more satisfying if the officer had shown up but I suspect he knew the case wasn't going anywhere. And I won't lie, when I heard several years later that his career with the highway patrol had stalled and he'd been demoted for misconduct, the first words out of my mouth were something along the lines of "ain't karma a bitch?" But that's not the most important part of this lesson.
Sitting in the police station that night, waiting to be processed through the system, I was shaking with terror. My teeth were actually chattering and I couldn't stop my legs from shaking. My mind kept racing to the worst possible scenario over and over. I traveled with my job, flying all over the country and renting cars weekly. If I lost my license, I'd probably be out of a job too. And the embarrassment would be too much to bear for myself and my family. It wasn't until another police officer interrupted my mental spiral into Hell that my terror turned into anger. After looking over the shoulder of the arresting officer as he typed up his report, she quietly walked over to me, placing her body between me and the still typing cop. Looking down at me with disgust, she said, "This is bullshit. Hire yourself a good lawyer and you'll get out of this". And with that, she walked away without looking back. I never did get her name.
Yeah, this is bullshit, I thought. I'm not drunk and this piece of crap cop is trying to ruin my life. Who the Hell does he think he is? I felt my anger boil up inside me. Like a volcano threatening to erupt, my anger would bubble up and then give way to fear and resignation. Sure, I was innocent this time, but this stupid cop represented the law and he was holding my whole life in his hands. He could throw me in jail, take my driver's license away for a year, cause me to lose my job which would probably force me to declare bankruptcy and move back home with my parents. Even falsely accused, my mind was reeling with all the possible implications of this nightmare, simply because I'd handed over all control of my life to the arresting officer. He could literally make me or break me.
On the ride home, I sat in the backseat of my parent's car, watching the scenery go by but not seeing a thing. Back home, I crawled into bed even though I knew sleep was not an option that night. I laid there, staring into the ever brightening room as the sun slowly broke over the horizon and filled the world with light. I thought about ways to get out of this mess, about possible attorneys to represent me. I felt sorry for myself and I raged against the legal system. I'm not sure if I came upon the life lesson then or if it took me a few weeks to find it.
We've all heard the stories on the news of a drunk driver who crashes into an innocent family, killing everyone but himself. Usually the story includes a piece about his blood alcohol content being over two times the legal limit. I don't really know what that means. The legal limit is pretty low, but it differs for each of us depending on your weight, when you took your last drink and how long you'd been drinking. So when the headlines report twice the legal limit, it makes for a good story but I still don't know if that means he was falling down drunk or slightly impaired. But it's a good enough story to make the national news, at least on a slow news day and either way, innocent people lost their lives. Over the next few weeks I thought a lot about my predicament. Since I traveled with my job, I really didn't drink much anymore and if I did, it was usually in the hotel bar with a few coworkers. The worst thing we had to navigate was the elevator and remembering our room numbers. But prior to traveling, I must confess there were many trips to the winery spent enjoying several bottles of really good wine over a long afternoon and a sketchy trip home that night. There were evenings too many to count spent at a bar or a friend's house with nothing for dinner but one alcoholic beverage or another. I don't think I'd ever been "twice the legal limit" but I can't say that with certainty. There had been too many nights spent taking too many chances, always thinking I had it all under control. Too many times I could have made the news with disastrous results. Forgot the legal implications....too many times I took other people's lives in my own hands. Period. Too many times.
With that revelation, I made a promise to my God. If I got out of this unscathed, I would NEVER drink and drive again, not even one drink. So I haven't and I won't. But why did it take such a huge lesson for me to wake up? Why did it take thousands of dollars, the possibility of harming someone else and a lifetime of embarrassment for me to be honest with myself? Why can't we learn our biggest life lessons in the skirmishes instead of always having to go to a full blown war?
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