Murphy's Law

This is a tale about driving under the influence of pot AND alcohol. Now you know the ending-- Let's go back.

So I was a big drinker back in the day (which was my four years of undergrad), but luckily I never had to drive anywhere. Everything was on campus. So I would drink myself into oblivion, then pass out on someone's couch and wake up and shake it off, or at worst, take the campus shuttle (sometimes to the wrong place), pass out, wake up and shake it off. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. This kind of behavior led me to believe I was a professional drinker and that I "knew when to say when," so to speak.

But when I graduated and moved off of campus, I had an unexpected learning curve awaiting me. I now lived about twenty minutes away from school, and still had plenty of friends on campus. You see where this is going. Good, because I didn't.

One night, I was back on campus and hanging out with said friends. Some drinking was done... ok maybe a lot of drinking. Around 1am, somebody brought out some herb, mary jane, marijuana, whatever YOU call it. I prefer 'indo' as in 'indo smoke.'

Again, remember I only had years of on-campus living as my guide. Smoking a j after a night of drinking was never a problem. Didn't cross my mind. So I partook.

Now the fun begins. After about an hour of chilling, *everybody* is drunk and high and tired. Which equals completely unconscious. I have to get up for work the next day (damn real world), and somehow am aware of this fact. So I announce I'm leaving.

One of my buddies makes a feeble attempt to stop me, though at least he tried. He asked me 'are you OK to drive?' I looked at him like he was from Mars. Sure I was good to drive. I really thought so. It was probably the calmative effect of the grass.

So I get into my car and get on the freeway on autopilot. I have to go about 17 miles. It's about 3am. I'm taking an essentially deserted freeway.

First sign I'm not as good as I thought I was-- I'm convinced I'm going perfectly straight, but I keep hitting those damn lane dots. bumpa-bumpa-bumpa. I'm getting annoyed, because it's incomprehensible to me how someone driving as straight as I clearly was could possibly be hitting these things constantly. Right.

Basically my car would drift, hit the dots, I would correct, it would drift, etc.

Around mile 11, I start to panic when I realize it's clearly my fault that I'm hitting these dots. However, it's weird as I now know something is VERY wrong with me and that I probably should not be driving, but for some reason pulling over is simply out of the question...

I get to the exit right before mine and breathe a sigh of relief as I think I'm almost home. And then, my heart sinks. Cop car, after cop car, after cop car. Panic! There's a row of them, all lined up in the right two lanes blocking MY exit.

At this point, I'm thinking my goose is cooked. Pictures of me in a jail cell, DUI and D-U-Weed stamped on my forehead. I distinctly recall thinking "my luck the one night I do this, there's some sort of police convention at 3am on MY exit."

So now the weed is really starting to kick in and I'm totally useless, but as my exit was blocked by the authorities, I had to drive another four miles to the next exit. Somehow, I got there, got off the freeway and immediately pulled over in a Jack-in-the-Box parking lot. I attempted to collect myself, and remembering my times in Amsterdam where they recommended drinking sugary substances when ridiculously high, I ordered a Coke.

Yes, ordering a Coke at 3am was funny to me.

I carefully drove home, and when I got there safely, I literally kissed my car on the hood and thanked God I made it home in one piece, without an arrest warrant issued in my name, and without hurting anyone else. I realized just how stupid what I did was and never did it again, but even now years later, I remember that despite being fully aware I wasn't good enough to drive, I still stubbornly kept driving! And that makes me very, very wary out on the roads late at night, because there's lots of people with a similar story to tell.
CasaChevyNova CasaChevyNova
31-35, M
4 Responses Mar 22, 2006

Folks who drive druck should have to drive with long spikes coming out of the streering wheel sitting right up to thier chest. Then they might know how it feels for the rest of us.

I hear that, Ive had Way too many nights like that, except for drunk, high, and suicidal, not a good combo, ha. Thanks for sharing.

wow... lucky you're OK and so are all the other people that were on the road with you!

Your story was amusing and totally rang true for me. I've done that numerous times...mostly drunk or high but not usually both at once. I think a lot of people just enjoy doing everything (including driving) under the influence because it seems funny or amusing, or they enjoy being reckless. I have friends who dropped out of high school and friends getting their PhDs from Ivy League schools who have all done it and I have family members who have a few too many glasses of wine and think they can drive. I think living in that bubble seems fun. Sometimes it's still hard to think to myself, 'no, as much as you want to leave, you have to sober up.' The only thing that really puts that in check for me is the image of my family being on the road and someone in my state choosing to drive...I can't imagine how horrible I would feel if that happened to my family, so I obviously don't want it to happen to anyone else's. Thinking of that, which is my worst nightmare, is enough to make me choose to pass out on a couch or sit on a curb for a few hours.