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Of drinking and driving and words never eard
© St. Petersburg Times I hate annual columns, especially the ones that are necessary. I believe, sadly, that this one is. You would think that the stupidity of drinking and driving would be so self-evident that only those with a firm grasp of the obvious (of which I have been accused) would feel the need to reiterate it. But the facts say we do. A couple of weeks ago I attended a memorial service for a young friend who died in an accident in which alcohol may prove to have played a part. One day he was 24, full of life, having fun. And then he was dead, leaving grieving friends and relatives behind. Coincidentally, within days of the accident, a sign went up behind the bar at the restaurant where he worked as a bartender advising holiday revelers that, if they find themselves unable to drive, they can call a number and not only get a ride home, but also get their vehicle towed, at no cost, to their homes. That service and free cab service for those too drunk to drive have become more and more common staples of the holidays, but you only have to take to the road during the early morning hours to see that a lot of drivers who should have used those services -- or found some other way home -- didn't. I was leaving a bar in New Port Richey with some friends the other night when one of them said, "Give me your keys and I'll drive." "I only had two beers," I said defensively. "I know," he said. "I don't think you're drunk. I just don't like the way you drive when you are sober." We had a good laugh over that. I also surrendered the keys because I hate to drive anyhow, but the incident started a train of thought. Unless somebody else intervenes, a drinker is usually the one who decides whether he or she is too impaired to drive safely, and does so with judgment that is already, by definition, impaired. We are better these days about willingness to intervene with our family or friends, but not better enough. People still leave bars so impaired that they are having difficulty walking. And they still get behind the wheels of cars. How sad it is that there are agencies that can predict, with chilling accuracy, how many people will die in any given holiday period, and how many of those deaths will be alcohol related. I learned a long time ago, interestingly, that experienced drinkers, even those who drive, stay off the roads as much as possible during the holidays for fear of what they call "amateur nights." The theory is that an experienced drinker is more likely to forbear driving than someone who isn't use to gauging the effects of alcohol on his or her judgment, and therefore the percentage of impaired drivers is even higher during the holidays. It wasn't that long ago that holiday office parties were a common part of the season. In fact one, held by a judge, was traditional for years at the Pasco County Courthouse. It always struck me as slightly bizarre that the people who prosecuted, defended and in some cases tried drunken drivers attended those parties where alcohol was served, but nobody else seemed to see the contradiction. Bit by bit our attitudes about alcohol abuse have changed. People used to have regular Monday morning recaps of Saturday night parties, discussing who was the most wasted. (Okay, frequently I was the subject of discussion back then.) Now those same people, if there has even been a party, are more likely to be talking behind their hands and wondering aloud if the subject of the conversation has a drinking problem. Nobody says you can't drink anymore. Nobody says you can't get drunk and make a fool out of yourself anymore. (Although the wisdom of the years has taught me that alcohol and discussions of company policy are usually poor companions at any event where the brass is present.) All organizations, led now for more than two decades by MADD (Mothers Against Drunk Driving), ask that you don't drink and drive. And I, as in years past, add my voice to that chorus. I don't want to go to any more of those memorial gatherings.
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Times columns today Robert Trigaux From the Times North Suncoast desks Jan Glidewell |
