“It was not until I found myself picking up trash on the side
of the highway, dressed in an orange vest, that the gravity of the situation
really sank in,” said the impeccable blond as she delicately rearranged
the silverware on the dining table. Dressed in a chic boucle jacket,
graceful chantelle lace blouse and trendy pair of Seven jeans; she looked
like the last person you would expect to see riding the back of a police
car. And yet, over lunch at Balthazar, she was slowly spilling the details
of her personal drunk driving hell, her pink-tinted pout quivering with
embarrassment. I could hardly believe that the elegant girl sitting across
from me was the ‘proud’ owner of a tainted police record
and horrid mug shot. It was utterly appalling. As I tried to overcome
my obvious state of shock, she continued, “You should have seen
Daddy’s face when I told him I had been arrested and needed an
attorney.”
Let’s call our Ivy League educated heroine, who
wishes to remain anonymous, Nina. Nina is a friend of a friend. She loves
fashion, art, debutante balls, horses, polo games, and summer vacations
in Nantucket, but above all Nina loves cocktail hour. It is a family
tradition. Nina prides herself in never getting ‘too intoxicated’--
for that would be considered ‘bad form’-- but she likes to
polish off a few colorful cocktails when the occasion arises. And as
many already know, in high society nothing arises more often than an
occasion to celebrate. Thus, coming from a long lineage of social drinkers,
it was like homecoming when Nina plunged head-first into the vibrant
college party scene. Rows of fraternities, filled up to capacity with
polo shirt wearing hunks, serving alcohol to minors without impunity… it
was like finding the perfect pair of sold out Christian Louboutin heels
out of nowhere, only better!
Right off the bat, Nina befriended a few like
minded gals, and before long the girls were having too much fun
for their own good. At the time, it seemed like every guy wanted to be
with them, while every girl wanted to be them. Despite their ever
increasing popularity, Nina and the gang soon outgrew their campus
confines, which became duller and tighter with every Toga bash. It was
time to explore new horizons and frequenting bars in the neighboring
town was the easiest way to get away. Some of Nina’s pals had valid
IDs and were of drinking age, while a considerable number cheated and
lied their way to Cosmopolitans and Margaritas and a menagerie of shots.
Alcohol increased the already overblown adolescent egos, their sense
of invincibility became 80 proof. They had money, class, and connections.
What could possibly go wrong?
What the girls did not know at the time was that the police patiently
waited outside popular hangouts right before last call, watching for
inebriated party goers, foolish enough to get behind the wheel. Then
the officers would quietly follow the vehicle in question, only to spring
into action at the first of the slightest breach.
After a seemingly ordinary night of bar hopping,
unaware of what could be (or how blindingly drunk she was) Nina piled
her sorority sisters into her convertible Benz, turned up the radio
and started heading back to the dorms. The cool breeze brushed their
cheeks and ran its slinky fingers through their long flowing hair,
as Bono screamed from the loud speakers, “If you wanna touch the sky, you better learn how to
kneel.” Somewhere in between singing along and fixing her lipstick
on the rear view mirror, she had zipped past a stop sign and the sirens
were telling her loud and clear to immediately pull over. “The
rest is rather blurry. The last drink I had had started hitting me hard
once the officers began my field sobriety test. They were asking me to
walk in a line, read how many fingers they were holding up, touch my
nose with my index finger and such; she said and continued, “I
still did not think they had anything on me. I was just annoyed and wanted
pass out.”
Unimpressed by Nina’s incoherence and lack of motor skills, the
officers asked her to blow into a breathalyzer (a gadget devised to measure
an individual’s blood alcohol level.) Still convinced that she
was not over the legal limit Nina agreed. Following that “it all
happened to quickly” she confesses. Apparently, as soon as the
number 0.08 appeared on the screen, the law enforcement handcuffed her,
read her her rights and delivered the shocked young woman to the local
police station. As she tells me the embarrassing details, Nina does not
look up from her napkin. Occasionally she twists the edges of white fabric
and repeats, “It was just ghastly. The backseats of those cars
have no cushions.”
For someone like Nina whose worst imaginable nightmare
consisted of a declined credit card, navigating the way out of an arrest,
a brief stint in jail (or more accurately the drunk tank filled with
crack addicts and prostitutes) and the sentencing that followed would
prove to be an instant reality check. In the year following her take
into custody Nina would have to pay heavy fines, do community service
with every single wife-beater and petty thief in the 20 mile radius
of her 45K- a year school, attend a DUI traffic program, suffer through
3 years of probation, and pay punitive insurance rates. Still, she
is thankful. “I am
just glad that I did not hurt myself, or, worse, someone else in one
of these drunken driving episodes,” she sighs towards the end of
our interview. Indeed, Nina is going to have put down on every job application
for the rest of her life that she is guilty of a misdemeanor, but she
is glad the worst is behind her.
Nina is not an aberration. Every year, thousands, ranging from 60 year-old
grandmothers to 21 year-old college students, are charged with driving
under the influence. Most of theses drinking related arrests are made
around the holidays. It is not infrequent that social drinkers, who have
had a few drinks too many at a family gathering or party find themselves
behind bars. To make a long story short, the DUI is not an urban legend
and it could certainly happen to you. It is easy to pontificate about
the merits of sobriety, but since most often people have a high opinion
of themselves and their capabilities, this message rarely registers.
The next time you reach for an alcoholic beverage
first remember that your weight has a direct effect on the amount of
alcohol you can consume before you are considered eligible for a DUI.
In other words, the amount of alcohol a 250 football player can consume
without treading the DUI line is quite different than what a 5’4” lady
with a 100 lbs frame can handle. Secondly, do not drink on an empty
stomach because low blood sugar speeds the rate of alcohol absorption
into to the blood stream. If you decide to drink, knowing fully well
you need to drive home, pay special attention to pacing yourself. As
a rule of the thumb, people are advised to consume NO more than a single
drink ( a drink is considered a 12- oz. beer, a 5-oz. glass of wine
or a cocktail containing 1.5 ounces of 80- proof liquor ) every hour.
Finally, quit drinking at least 90 minutes before you are scheduled
to leave. Of course, these are life saving tips for those capable of
exercising moderation and restraint. But, if you have a history of
going over board and testing the limits of extremes, always make sure
to arrange for a sober driver, or, better yet, take a cab when going
out.
Nina’s story is a pseudo-Aesopian tale about how
costly an individual’s
recklessness and lack of common sense can be. But when dealing with drunk
driving there are higher prices to pay than fines. According to official
records, “ The percentage of alcohol-related crashes in 2003 represents
an average of one alcohol-related fatality every 31 minutes and one alcohol-related
injury every two minutes.” To avoid being a number in these death-toll
statistics -- or wearing an orange jumpsuit for the foreseeable future
-- please drink responsibly.
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