I have driven drunk. I’m not proud of it, but I am guilty.
Three weeks ago, I awoke in a cold sweat, thunderstruck by a dream in which I had been pulled over, convicted of driving under the influence and carted off to prison.
Last weekend, not yet recovered from my night scare, I nursed two martinis all night. As I turned my keys in the ignition and buckled my seat belt to drive seven blocks home, I was still sober – or so I thought. When I ran a stop sign on campus several minutes later, I sighed relief that my negligence hadn’t caused an accident or been seen by the police.
No such luck. Half a block later, two patrol cars blared their sirens signaling me to pull over. Then and there I had a near-death experience. While remembering my nightmare, I witnessed a dazzling white light, then realized it was their detective-grade, blind-you-mindless floodlight reflecting in my rearview mirror. I was being double-teamed with one officer at each window. My alarm rocketed to a new altitude when they demanded I step out of my car.
By then, my heart was thumping so hard I thought I would faint. My knees were wobbling. I visualized my mug shot while simultaneously summoning every yoga relaxation technique I had ever heard of. The panic won and my hands began trembling. “Have you been drinking?” the first officer asked, still blinding me. “Yes,” I squeaked. He had no choice but to perform a sobriety test.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get the luxury of a Breathalyzer. I had to walk the line, watch the blue flashlight pen, and stand on one foot while counting backwards from 1,000. I quickly discovered that being petrified had an adverse effect on my physical abilities. I thought, ‘How am I supposed to walk the line in stilettos when I can barely stand up?’ The second officer made me repeat the entire sequence barefoot.
Thirty agonizing minutes later, the ordeal was finally over. The cops pronounced me sober and issued me a standard traffic violation. I was so ecstatic about receiving the citation I think I scared the first officer. I highly doubt either gentleman had been profusely thanked for writing a $91 fine. Needless to say, I will never again drive under the influence – even after merely one or two mixed drinks.
Post-scare, I did some homework and determined that reality is more spine-chilling than my nightmare. Drunk driving fines range from $200-1,000 and three days to one year in jail. Car crashes are the No. 1 killer of all people ages 6 to 33, and roughly half of those involve alcohol. Ohio alone averages 549 deaths and 23,431 alcohol-related injuries per year.
You’ve heard this all before. You know it won’t happen to you. You won’t get pulled over. You won’t be in a wreck. A drunk driver will never kill someone you love. But really it’s not about you or me – it’s about every child growing up without a parent and every friend forced to watch a casket being lowered into the ground.
So the next time you’re drinking, think twice before picking up your keys. Suspend the erroneous belief in your own invincibility, because walking the line just isn’t worth it.
Rebecca Miller is a senior in psychology. She can be reached for comment at [email protected].
