D U Why?

So, they finally got me last night. The unarrestable (me) was cuffed to a bench in a police station last night and had to call in a favor from his dad to stay out of county jail for the night.

I deserved it. There were many times where I was far worse than I was last night when I made an ill advised right hand turn across railroad tracks as the barriers were coming down and got pulled over, but I still deserved it eventually.

It went like this: they pulled me over in front of a Jack In The Box with a drive thru full of real drunks. They gave me a field sobriety test that I was just killing. The eyes? Always look two ticks to the right or left and your eyes don't track. Dad taught me that. They made me do the ten steps in each direction and I made nineteen of them and stumbled on the twentieth. At that point, I looked at the very nice police officer and just simply said "you win, dude." After that, I was cuffed and thrown in the back of a squad car after requesting to give a blood test rather than breath. Pro tip. It was my best chance at taking any kind of edge off.

So, they drove me back to the police station and as they walked me through to a bench to cuff me to, I let them know that they really deserved a better police station because theirs was in City Hall and they needed their own space. So, they cuff me to a bench while the bald cop is writing the report and the young cop looks at me and says "You seriously have golf clubs and a skateboard in your trunk?"

I replied, "Yeah. You never know if you need to bust a rail slide or just slice it into the woods on the 14th hole, man."

So, they got the phlebotomist there in her sweat pants and I gave blood hoping for the best. I kept telling them that the cuffs were really uneccasary as they had clearly won the match and I would take responsibility for what I had done. I felt and still feel awful about the whole thing. The thing is this: Would I have felt bad had I not been caught? That really is the question. I think getting caught can turn into a relatively expensive, but productive lesson. I may have needed this kick in the pants. Don't, for a second think I'm laughing about this. I may join AA again just to prove to myself, friends and family that I'm trying. That my hearts in the right place.

So, anyway, they go "Would you like to make a phone call?" and I go "Yeah. I got one for ya."

I called my dad. He's a lieutenant in a different county. My stepmom answered and I asked for my dad. I never call him except for Father's Day, Christmas and his birthday so she knew something was up. So I go "Dad, I got a deuce tonight. I don't really know what to do." He simply replied "Let me talk to one of them."

I looked at the young cop and said "My dad wants to talk to you."

He looked at me like I was crazy as I handed the phone to him, but he also looked curious about what I was pulling at that point. After a series of yeahs, uh-huhs, nos and sure that won't be a problems, he looked at me and said "Good news. You're not going to county tonight. Now call someone to get you out of here."

I called my best friend in the world and his phone went to voice mail. So I did the next best thing and called his fiance who was next to him in bed. She answered and handed the phone to him. You know that feeling of shame you got when you were eight and you knocked over the birthday cake for your sister face down on the kitchen floor? The look that your mom gave you is the same one that I felt as his eyes burned into me at the moment. Outside of parental units, he's all that I've got for living up to. For being responsible. For not fucking up. He's known me since before I fucked up. When we both possessed the innocence of youth. When debauchery was stealing a smoke from your mom and smoking it in a weird alley on the way home from Junior High while you pounded Slurpees. It hurts bad. You get a look like a beat dog, but it's good. Everybody needs someone to keep them in check and keep them...well...good. Being that I have no one in an intimate way like that, which used to work a bit, it's the best I've got. So, as he reads this I'm saying thank you. A non-real friend wouldn't give a fuck and would simply watch his friend crash and burn. People need to be called on shit or they would run rampant.

So, they picked me up and got me home safely, which at the the time was like ice water on a hot day. It's just better than anything in the world at some times. I woke up this morning and took a verbal beating from my sister. She's back on the campaign that I need therapy and pills so that this shit doesn't happen anymore. She's almost got me convinced that she's right, but it somehow feels like giving up, but when measured against being cuffed to a bench, it may not be that bad. Being stuck at home in a Zoloft delusion could work for me, but I'm scared that I would know that my feelings weren't real. I already struggle with their realities as it is.

After the beating, I took a shower and rode my bike to the hospital to get my staples removed. It wasn't bad at all. Took some PTO on my Blackjack and then went to the police station to get my release for my vehicle. I know a ton of people had had this happen, but fuck me if the shame doesn't coat the top quarter inch of your skin. It sucks.

Then, I did what I do and talked to an ex-girlfriend, an ex-wife and another sister to just try and stabilize my head as it's spinning today. You kind of need to just accept and not fight it. It happens. It's okay. It's going to be $1700 and a restricted license for six months. If anything, it forces me to go green and ride my bike a bit more. So, if anything, I did my part for the environment. Also, according to my ex-wife, my bike is way cooler than my car anyway.

So, Whoomp. There it is.