Thursday marked a personal milestone for me. On April 5, 1987, I woke up in jail, in the drunk tank, and I determined that if I did not stop drinking I would die.
On April 4, I got up around eight in the morning and started on the remains of the six pack I had left on the table from the night before. By noon, I had driven to town to the liquor store and bought a liter of Old Overholt. Someone told me that there was a big to-do down at the beach, so I began an epic journey. The trip to the beach was about sixty miles, so I had to have had a couple of stiff drinks during the drive.
I don’t remember much about the beach except that I couldn’t find anyone I knew and ended up at a bar. I probably showed my ass because I had been drinking heavily for well over twelve hours and I frequently showed my ass when I got drunk. I remember that I made a decision to go home early and take the back roads home. I think that the other car must have backed out in front of me, but there were four occupants in that car and I was the only witness for the defense. I think my brakes might have failed but I didn’t mention that to the arresting officer (I had fixed my own brakes the week before and alcohol was involved then, too). There wasn’t a road-side sobriety test, I remember the officer told me where to stand while he talked to the other witnesses then he told me to get in his car and we went to jail. My BAC was 0.20 and the time of arrest is stated at 11:10p.m. (I had the ticket laminated, a keepsake). I’m not sure of the timeline but i’m sure a police officer could not have respnded in less than an hour and it must have been a 45 minute trip to the jail so I must have hit the other car about 9:30. That’s when I quit drinking.
When I woke up the next morning I took stock: no one was dead, I frequently did things that I did not intend to do when I drank, I had now totaled three of my personal vehicles drinking and driving, Dad had died drinking and driving five years previously, his mother had died of cirrhosis of the liver a few years before him, if I did not STOP drinking I would likely die an ugly, alcoholic death. In my way of thinking, there is no point in drinking if you are not going to get wasted, I quit. I was about 16 when I started drinking seriously, I was 24 years old when I quit.
