So, ok, I'm not a big fan of the police. They don't really enforce the law unless they really have to. When I saw Tank Police for the first time (old reference, sure, but those Puma twins were HOT) I thought the bit about the Sarge stopping crime UP TO the job-securing minimum of X crimes a time period was funny but it's really the truth. Pigs spend too much time on crimes that don't harm anyone and not enough in the ghettos and underworlds to really stomp out the bad guys.
Cop gets shot not too far from work: they lock down the area and put checkpoints in everywhere and basically make life miserable for everyone for hours upon hours. Home invasion robberies and ordinary citizens getting shot? They'll send a unit but they won't promise much. Employees steal money from work and it's obvious it was them? Nah, not enough evidence, where's my donut?
Now, I did something shameful Sunday night. Yes, shameful. Please don't replicate it. I didn't intend to do it, it sort of just happened.
I drove drunk. Yes, I sure did.
Now, ok, I could have called a taxi. Not much sweat off my back for that. I just didn't want to leave my car there. Call me paranoid, but I don't like to intentionally put myself in positions of vulnerability. And leaving my car in a strange place overnight without me around is a vulnerable situation. (It'd probably all work better in a real city where you could WALK places, or with real public transportation.)
Anyway, I'm feeling rather inebriated but everyone assured me I still seemed as sharp as a tack. I piss, I get some gum, I drink some water, and I pull out. I can tell my reaction times are sluggish. I get on US1 and start going home.
While driving I notice these two cars in the gap in the median with lights off. I just glance and don't really pay attention until I see one car start moving and do a u-turn and get behind me at a light. I think it's a cop at this point. My heart starts pounding but his lights aren't on so it puts me a little at ease. I get a light, I go and turn and, 3, 2, 1, flashing lights.
OH SHIT. Game's over. That's it. End of the line for me. Here begins the end of my life as I know it. Some assholes get DUI after DUI after DUI and they're still on the road. Knowing my luck, I'll be the one they make an example of.
I start hyperventilating. I'm slightly psychotic about things happening to me that I could have prevented so I feel like bursting into flames. I could have taken another road home. I could have stayed there another hour. I could have gotten really really drunk and made someone call 911 for alcohol poisoning. ANYTHING.
Meanwhile the hyperventilation grounds me. I remember that it may lower the breathalizer. I remember what my father said about dealing with pigs: yes sir, no sir, thank you sir. THEN I think that the less I speak the less the chance he'd smell the Kamikazes on my breath.
I lower the window, he approaches and asks for license and registration. I was too gone to wonder why he didn't ask for insurance, but, you know, this or that. I hand him my license and fumble slightly with the wallet. I get my car book from the glove and zip it open deliberately but I knew my motor control simply wasn't there for me to be at my usual dexterity.
I hand him everything and he says he clocked me at 61 in a 45 zone. I open my shit mouth and say I didn't realize, and he goes back to his car with them.
OH SHIT again. He saw me open that book. He saw me fumble with my wallet. He could have smelled me speak. THE JIG IS UP. My life is over. I thought about how I'd be fired at work, how I'd be unable to get work ever again, how I'd be kicked out of the house, how I'd have to live in my car except I can't because my license would be revoked and the only place I could live is in my car while it's in impound. I'd have to sell all my worldly possessions to pay for the lawyer and I'll wind up losing the case anyway and I might as well kill myself or emigrate to another country.
I'm such a damn psycho but it's true. My adrenaline was pumping about as hard as it was when I _______ my ____ (I'll tell ya soon, don' worry).
He comes back with my stuff, hands me my ticket, and asks me to sign it. It's speeding. I'm to sign on the blue but I screwed up and started signing in the wrong place. He corrected my hand. I finished signing and leaves without any more word. I start putting stuff away and the lights turn off. He does a u-turn, presumably, to return to his hiding spot.
OH, uhhh, not shit? He let me go? He couldn't tell? Maybe he couldn't. Maybe I shouldn't think he couldn't. Maybe he knew and decided not to completely ruin my life. Maybe God, you know, the one I'm always harping about, took pity on me. But I was on my way.
And all I got was a $250 speeding ticket. I've never been so happy to get a ticket. Not happy enough to let it go without calling a ticket attorney, but, yeah.
Now, thing is: I'm not opposed to the designated driver program. Not at all. I've got lots of friends who don't drink at all and I love them and they would most certainly keep me company if I asked and they were available. BUT it feels lame to drink on my own. It's lonely.
It may sound strange, but I feel more lonely drinking with someone who isn't drinking than if I was just drinking alone. Like, I want to BOND with my friends and if they aren't participating in bonding it feels empty. So, I prefer NOT to have a designated driver. At least when it's them and no one else I know is drinking with me.
But that's all. The trick now is to just get drunk with my friends, you know, in the place I intend to spend the night. <3
