I remember now....

Happened: November 2001

7 years ago, nearly to the day, I had my first DUI, at the time I was going to school in Boston. Each day I left for school at 6 am, spend 10 hours there, and usually would head out for a beer with classmates. Now, considering my behavior of all or nothing after a few weeks this leads into going out nearly every night. Being that I am not working, living with my father, I am poor, not as poor as I am now but still poor. So, this faithful day I drive into school, illegally park and somehow not get a ticket, I then head out to a show. My logic at the time was I did not eat all day since money can be exchanged for beer that night. So all day I think I ate a piece of bread, and maybe some Pringles (I had a thing for Pringles back in the day).

That night I head to Alston to see Meat Depressed (Boston punk band) and line up a deal where if I sell t-shirts for them they will get me in free, and toss me a couple of beers… combined with the few dollars I have, equals good fun. You combined these factors with an empty stomach, and you have the makings of getting really drunk. So, I park in a shady spot where it clearly states you will be towed, but clearly they will not tow me right? I head into the bar and I forget most of the details other than the beers were flowing, and I lost my favorite sweater ever! It was brown and made me look like a sheep, and I lived in it while in Ireland… so sad. So, I am selling t-shirts, drinking mighty, mighty pints of the luscious juices of god himself…. Yes god’s man juice is Guinness... PROVEN FACT.

I go to leave, now it is not closing, the show is not over… I am really drunk at this point I am in the gray area, looking back I do not know why I left. People I have talked to that night, including the bands whose t-shirt stand I stranded and had 40 dollars of their money in my pocket do not know why I left either. Some where in my mind something clicked and said time to go home… I leave and my truck is not towed, what luck I am having huh? Not quite.

I hit the tolls at the mass pike and I recognize I am wasted… WHEN? When the toll both worker asks “are you alright?” my response is “me is good” This roughly translates from drunk into English as “My dear woman, this is my lucky day, the birds are singing and the world is a beautiful place. May all your dreams come true.” I then pull out onto 128, and I remember it clear as day, I am coming down past Natick, past the radio towers, and into Needham highlands, cruising along there is a right bend as you go under abridge for the Dedham/Needham exit, this when I wake up!

As I cross lane number 2, and recognize cruise control does not steer, and unlike Colorado the roads aren’t straight. The state trooper in the grassy knoll of the exit seems to think my driving is due to alcohol, and not drowsiness, silly state trooper. So, I notice a crazy flashing of lights behind me, it’s about 1 am, a weeknight, and no one else on the road. I think he’ll pass…. That’s odd two other lanes are wide open no traffic and he is not passing me, could he want to speak to me? I reach the top of the hill, and being the sober driver I am I pull into a little truck rest area right across the street from the jail, those of you who love literature would call this “foreshadowing” I call it shit! So, it appears the state trooper is not lost looking for directions; he actually wants to ask me a few questions.

Cop: “Sir, have you been drinking?”

Me: “I might have had one or two”

Cop: “Step out of the vehicle”

Me: (Thinking, oh shit)

Cop: “Close your eyes extend your arms; touch the tip of a finger to your nose.”
Me: (Thinking, piece of cake)

The questioning gets increasingly difficult until…

Cop: “Recite the alphabet”

Me: “You really should have learned that in grade school”

Ok, all of us know a few cops they are you neighbor, or on your softball team. Cops can be fun when off duty, some have senses of humor. They may even regal us with a joke from time to time. Apparently they are not so much fun on a traffic stop. So, I sort of laugh, and begin thinking, the alphabet, really?

Me: “a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p, h i j k l m n o p”

This is followed by perplexed looks from me, the trooper, and the second trooper who showed up a few seconds earlier. I am starting to think maybe I did have a few to many. Being the jovial guy he is the cop offers me a second chance.

Cop: “Want to try that again?’

Me: “Yes”

Me: “a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p, h i j k l m n o p”

I could NOT say the alphabet! This was not the crazy backwards alphabet, the German alphabet, no! The same one on the keyboard I type this on… YES THAT ALPHABET!! I am led to the back of his car, and things are looking like maybe it was not my lucky day. He starts driving me to headquarters, and passes my exit.

Me: “Dude, you just missed my exit, you are getting such a crappy tip”

This like my previous joke does not go over well. He gives me a dirty look and speeds up rather abruptly. For those of you who has never felt the subtle feeling of hard steel behind your back. Imagine: you are leaning forward to keep the weight off the sharp edges off the cuffs which are ALWAYS put on to tight. The acceleration of a vehicle transfers weight into back right onto the cuffs. Simple math where V = forward acceleration

V = OUCH MY FUCKING WRISTS!!

I get to the jail house, and start doing the booking process. I notice I need to go to the bathroom, which he apparently takes this as an invitation to watch. So, here I am holding my pride and joy in my hands, while he stands beside me. I could not pee, so I asked him to turn on the water. I still can not pee, so I zip back up, and complain, he does not care. I guess the frisking, the fact that they flush the toilet NOT you is still not enough for them to let you piss in peace. I am asked to blow into a little contraption .16 not too bad, twice the limit. I then call home dialing my father… my dad is a cop… he is not going to like this news. I hang up and call my sister, she will not like the news either, but she is more understanding.

The next morning I awake late, figure I get a day off from school for this right? When I hear my sister and father talking downstairs.

Dad: “Where is John’s truck?”

Deb: “I am not sure, you should talk to him”

I go back to bed.