Alcohol Essay

Alcohol and Motor Vehicles: A Bad Mix, to Say the Least

James Glavin
Period B
5.11.99

Its a party. You’re with all your friends. A lot of people have been drinking, including you. Its the classic story, and we’re just getting to the exciting part. Here comes midnight. You decide it is time to go home. As soon as the thought enters your head, your clouded judgment takes over. As if you were on a crusade to save the world, you resolve that you must get home at all costs. You quickly administer a self-evaluation of your state of mind, but are unsuccessful in determining the true amount of awareness you posess. This is due, again, to your clouded judgment. You seem to think you are “Fine to drive,” because you are intoxicated to the point that you are no longer able to recognize that you are intoxicated. When you make the announcement of your intentions to leave, your close friends, and generally the people who care about you, express their disagreement with this proposition. Your clouded mind begins to reason again. Since everyone has been drinking, their judgment must also be clouded. Therefore, they don’t know what they are saying. You convince yourself that it is a good idea. Oops, its getting late. Your parents might get mad if you’re not home by midnight. You mumble your good-byes to the group of people, now openly trying to change your mind by yelling. As you stumble out the door, your best friend approaches you. He calmly tells you that you’ve been drinking, that it would be better for you to wait before you try to drive. He then asks you for your car keys. This triggers your muddled brain to become angry at your friend for trying to tell you what to do. As you walk away after pushing him off his feet, you feel triumphant, for standing up for yourself.

After you get in your car, you sit there for a moment, trying to remember why you are out there. Then, you look at your watch, seeing that its a quarter to twelve, and your purpose suddenly returns. As you speed out of the bumpy, rutty driveway, you hardly notice the horrible sounds the muffler is making as you fantasize about all the food awaiting you in the refrigerator at home.

Now, you're out on the road. You race home at dangerous speeds, continually looking down at the clock, which now reads 11:50. When you look up, you notice something in the road, and then hear a dull “thud-thud.” A rabbit. You assure yourself that you could have avoided it, that you were only too lazy. As you again lose concentration, you suddenly hit another rabbit. Or, maybe it was a skunk. You couldn’t look up in time. As the thought of your car smelling like skunk pulses through your brain, you forget again to pay attention to the task at hand. As a sharp corner approaches, you don’t notice, and continue to drive at about sixty miles per hour. At the last minute, your eyes focus back on the road, where a looming stonewall taunts you directly ahead at about fifty yards. By the time the message gets sent from your brain to your hands to jerk the wheel, this number has been reduced to single digits. As your car careens wildly about the road, a sinister grin works its way onto your face. When you finally come to rest somewhere a little down the road, facing backwards, you can’t resist but to yell out loud. “Whoah... That was awesome!!!” Your car is still running when you decide to resume your trip. You put the car into third gear and promptly stall. After you restart the car, you take a few minutes to work the problem out. Once you reach the solution, you try again, and this time you are back on your way.

After about two miles of utter confusion, you turn around and resume your journey in the right direction. When you get home, you hastily pull into the driveway, shut the car off, and promptly open the door and throw up all over the ground. You sit back in the driver’s seat and wait for the nausea to wear off, and presently drift off to sleep. When you wake up, night is drawing to a close, and you get out of your car, step in your own puke, and go into your house to sleep.

In a typical ending for this story, you would wake up in the morning, look out the window, see your car parked the wrong way with visual signs of abuse, and the remains of throw-up on the ground, and groan, promising yourself that you will never do this again. Then, the story may have a sequel. Who knows what could happen in the sequel.
I was once one of these people. I can recount numerous times when I was in no condition to walk, and offering people rides home. That was just my nature. I was a “professional.” Since I first got my license last September, I had been working up to this famed status. For a period of time, I was regarded by some as “bulletproof,” and I was able to keep up this reputation. A lot of other people didn’t approve of my practices. Of course, I was engaged in a risky occupation, and it had to reach its peak at some point.

It happened about a month ago. I was at another one of those famed high school parties. After countless beers and shots of anything you could think of, The issue of transportation was brought up. Now, even I had limits. I could keep myself on the road better than others, yes, but I also knew that there were times when even I had to say no. I could tell that this was one of those times. I determinedly rejected any requests of my service. Then, suddenly, the topic had changed. We started talking about something that caught my attention, and I promptly forgot about my resolution. I resumed drinking. From what I can remember, this is when the night ended. So, I will continue the story from the recollections of others. Once I had consumed quite a bit more, I then decided that it would be a good time to go for a drive. So I began to make preparations. I gathered up the people who were going, drank the last of any liquor I could find, and we were on our way.

The conclusion may not be what you expect. Like I said before, I really think that I was able to keep myself on the road better than others. After a mysterious drive that I don’t remember any of from Vineyard Haven to Chilmark, It seemed like we had made it. We pulled into where we were going, and I shut the car off. At this point, I tried to get out of the vehicle, and realized that I was going to have a hard time walking. I stood up, and then fell flat on my face in the dirt. While I lay there, my companions were busy with other matters. As it turns out, my car was in flames at this point, and I hadn’t noticed it. As everyone tried to put out the fire, I simply lay there, with my face in the ground. When everyone realized that they weren’t going to get the flames out, they brought me into the house. They called the fire department, and tried to think of some way to keep them from seeing me. However, short of blatent lies, there was just no way. It was my car, and I had to take responsibility for it. So, when I finally became coherent enough to know where I was, I had been taken to the hospital, given a blood test, released, and put in jail. When I came to, an officer was filling out a form with my name and address. My mother came in, and my bail was paid, at which point I was brought home. Just like in every story, I went to sleep without a care in the world. When I woke up the next morning, I was shocked at sight of myself. When I looked in the mirror, I saw huge scrapes and bloody gashes all over my face. Although this sight was scary by itself, the most frightening thing was that I had no recollection of where they came from.

This incident will cost me my car (obviously) and my license for the next year. I will have to enter a drunk-driving program, and pay numerous court and legal fees amounting to large sums. The punishment for doing what I did is harsh, and with good reason. In some ways, I am glad that its so harsh. Maybe I’ll learn something.