Have You Been Drinking?
To say I sobered up quickly when I saw the flashing lights … that would be an understatement. Or at least, I believed I’d sobered up.
Between the scene with Gregg in the parking lot and driving nearly all the way home, I hadn’t had a drink in maybe an hour. But I’d had several drinks, made with four kinds of hard liquor, and I was definitely drunk.
The policeman got out of his car and strolled to my window. I assume he asked for my license and registration, but I don’t recall exactly. I only remember the gist of my shaking and slurring, which went something like this:
“I’m sorry I ran the red light, but I just wanted to get home. I’ve had a really bad night and – “
“Have you been drinking?”
Alcohol oozed from my pores even when I was sober. “Well, not for awhile,” I admitted.
“Get out of the car.”
I got out of the car. “I could just leave the car here and walk home,” I said. “I only live two blocks away!”
“What’s your address?”
I recited my address. “It’s just right over there,” I pointed. “I don’t need to drive. I can just walk home!”
“What’s the alphabet?”
“Huh?”
“Recite the alphabet.”
“Um, you mean A-B-C-D-E-F-G-H-I-J-K …”
“Now say it backwards.”
The policeman had no idea that memorizing the alphabet backwards had been one of my favorite ways to escape boredom in school, so he thought this was a challenge. If he’d asked me to count backwards from a hundred, I would have been completely stumped.
Instead I recited: “Z-Y-X-W-V-U-T-S….”
“Good enough,” he said. “Now I’m gonna need you to walk a straight line. Right over here. Toe to toe.”
He pointed to black asphalt in the black night. I thought I’d be given a chalkline to follow – some tape maybe – but no.
I put a foot in front of me, too drunk to realize that taking a larger first step would have been helpful for balance. I put my other foot in front of the first and nearly fell over – but didn’t. I expanded my arms at my sides and started blabbing at the policeman. “This is just like walking the balance beam in middle school,” I said. “I always hated the balance beam but I can do it.” And indeed, somehow, I did it without falling far off the imaginary line.
The policeman was dumbfounded. I was obviously wasted but I hadn’t failed any of his tests.
“Where did you say you live?” he asked again. “Can you really walk home?”
“I can! But where should I put my car?” There was no actual shoulder where we had stopped.
“How about I follow you home,” he said. “And you drive straight there, nowhere else. Got it?”
“I can do that!” I stood there, bloodshot eyes glistening as I gazed up at him in the dark.
He handed me my license. “Get in your car and drive straight home,” he repeated sternly. “I’ll follow you to make sure you get there safely.”
I put my license in my back pocket, where it lived. Then I did as I was told.
He followed me, silently but with lights flashing, to my house. I parked, got out, and turned to wave – to show him I hadn’t screwed up – but he was already gone.
He didn’t even give me a ticket for running the red light.
But being almost jailed twice in one night? That fact knocked the wind out of me.
And after passing out on the floor, I started drinking again the next morning.