One of the most ridiculous statements I have made to myself and to other people is that when I have a couple of drinks in me I'm a much better and safer driver. I pay attention more and my reactions are better. That is like saying when I wear a blindfold my hearing gets better! I have said it dozens, if not hundreds, of times to the people daring enough to get in the car with me when I was hammered. I said it mainly to myself knowing in my heart I should not be driving, but my addiction could play me like a kazoo.
My prayer life was at it's peak while driving drunk. "God please don't let me get a DUI." The professional drunk takes note of the shape of police car headlights so we can do a quick rear view mirror analysis of the cars tailing us. "It's a Ford LTD slow down." "It looks like a Charger. Be cool." I couldn't tell you much about a car's interior, but I damn well could describe the front of a cop car to the T.
In March of 1991 I was laid off from a job I held with a major petrochemical corporation. I loved being laid off. I could get paid, drink earlier and drink more. When I was working, I had second shift and my hours were 7pm-7am, a two days on and 3 days off kinda thing. Since my body was not used to nocturnal labor I began to take ephedrine to keep me awake. I could get it at the gas station. There was no late night drive to unfriendly neighborhoods or circling my dealer's house endlessly until he returned home. I could pop in, buy some speed and a honey bun and I was set.
The recommended dose was not to exceed 4 tablets during any 24 hour period. I took 30-50 in a night. It's funny how the addict has a unique way of counting. When I was talking to people I had half the money I claimed to have in my pocket and did three times the drugs I claimed to have taken. Even to this day if I take some Tylenol and its recommended dose is 2 tablets, I will take 3! An addict like me feels we need more than the average bear, even when it comes to curing a headache. I am working on that unhealthy thinking daily.
I quickly learned that when I mixed the speed with the booze, I could consume unbelievable amounts of the sauce and get a racy head tingly, hair itching buzz at the same time. It was addiction Utopia! On this particular March day in 1991 it was unseasonably warm and I was enjoying several vodka and lemonades with ephedrine chasers. I made a couple of trips to the liquor store that day. I was celebrating the dawn of spring! I deserved a drink! My high made the birds sing louder and the breeze all the more refreshing. I am amazed when I look back at the denial, justification and rationalizations I used for killing myself one drug at a time.
I got a call late in the afternoon that I would be returning to work the following Monday. I would have time to cleanse my body of the pollution and piss clear spring water for my drug test. This was a call for more celebration! I called a buddy and we made plans to meet later in the evening. I drank and popped, drank and popped. My mother returned home to find me tanked. I took a French bath and headed for my white Ford Escort.
As I slid behind the reigns of my iron chariot, my mother came to the car and begged me not to drive. I dismissed her knowing I was a much safer driver while drunk rather than sober. At that time seat belt laws were more lax than today. I never wore one. That evening I clicked the belt on to pacify my mother's concerns and headed for the bar. I do not remember anything about the drive until "IT" happened.
I was halfway between Frankfort and Mokena on Route 45. They were repaving the road and the sides were cut straight. There was no curbing installed, just a 24 inch drop off. I looked down to change the radio station and didn't notice that the Blazer in front of me had made a last second decision to make a left turn. I looked up in time to cut my wheel hard right. Grazing the bumper of the Blazer I shot over the two foot man made cliff. The nose hit first and I began to roll end over end, 4 times I would later find out.
The car came to rest on its roof. I unbuckled my seat belt and crawled through the window. I was numb and in shock. My hand and right ankle ached and burned. I do not remember anything after that except waking up in Silver Cross Hospital. I had a police guard and promptly vomited all over me and him. I had broken my hand and ankle. Thankfully no one was hurt in the Blazer.
They stitched and casted me up and my friend came to bail me out of the police station. He told me that I had a blood alcohol content of .32. In Illinois the limit is .05 and drunk is .08. I was .32! I was driving in a clinical coma! So much for driving better while drunk. I was nearly dead and should have been killed in the accident. Why did I put my seat belt on that night? God was looking after me. I see that crystal clear now. I used to think he didn't know I existed. Looking back, I see he saved my ass day after insane day for 20 plus years.
My sister took me to the pound to see the remains of the car and we both wept in horrified relief that I survived. You could barely recognize the twisted chunk of metal. It shook me up. It hit me hard just how lucky I was. I could barely process the information but I had a solution. I got home and made a stiff drink. What? You made a drink after nearly dying in a drunk driving accident? Yup! That's what alcoholics do.
One I heard..My car knows the way home..:(
ReplyDelete