Under the Influence

I was in a bad mood. That's the only explanation I can offer. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was feeling reckless. And I got really, really lucky.

The evening started with dinner with my father.  At that point in my life, such an event was still almost guaranteed to leave me anxious and angry. I don't think anything particularly bad even happened. There was just a lot of baggage that I still hadn't worked through. I had a couple of glasses of wine over several courses. By the time dinner was over I was a tightly wound ball of nerves, ready to be anywhere else.

The drinking had already started when I got back to campus, though we still had several hours before we had to be at the ice rink. I had a couple of beers before we all piled into cars, but that was all. I was aware enough to know that I shouldn't drink too much in the frame of mind I was in. But those beers were enough to keep my bad mood simmering.

I let a sober friend drive my car to the ice rink. I wasn't drunk, just buzzed. Enough that I conceded I shouldn't be driving.

I'd enjoyed broomball in previous years, but that night it just made me angrier. I think anything would have, given my black mood. Instead of participating, I sat on the sidelines and stewed. By the time the game was over I felt sober and restless enough that I wanted to drive home. I even managed to convince my friend that it wouldn't be a problem. After all, I argued, I'd only had two beers, and that was hours ago.

We piled into my car for the short drive back to school. While waiting at a stop light, a car full of frosh pulled up next to me. We didn't have much farther to go, so we foolishly decided to race and see who would make it back first.

The light turned green. They saw the cop. I didn't. I was pulled over immediately.

It was at that point that I remembered I didn't have my driver's license on me. I hadn't been planning to drive, so I hadn't bothered to grab it. An instant later I realized that I also lacked current registration for my car. I was supposed to get it from my dad at dinner, but I'd forgotten.

There I was: lacking identification, in a car with expired registration under someone else's name, and a cop sauntering towards me. On his way he shone his light on the three people laying in the back of my station wagon. I couldn't even count how many laws I was breaking in the moment. I was going to jail, and there was no way out of it. Somehow, that inevitability kept me calm.

I rolled down the window as the officer approached then returned my hands to the steering wheel.

"You were going a little fast there," His voice was infuriatingly, terrifyingly, casual.

"Yes, sir, I was."

"Have you had anything to drink tonight?"

"I had a couple of beers a few hours ago. And some wine with dinner."

"How old are you?"

"21." Just don't ask for proof. Miraculously, he didn't. He did ask me to step out of the car so he could perform a roadside sobriety test.

I stood on one foot. I walked in a line. I followed his pen with my eyes while he shone a flashlight in my face.

"Do you got to school around here?"

My brain raced to catch up with this sudden shift. "Yes. I go to Harvey Mudd." I pointed to the campus, only a few blocks away. "It's right there."

"What are you studying?"

"Physics." Was this small talk?

"And you're going back to campus now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, you're free to go. Just be more careful in the future."

My brain refused to process this turn of events, but my mouth automatically formed the words "Thank you, sir."

He turned and walked back to his car. I got in mine and sat there for a minute while my friends stared at me.

"So," one of them ventured, "what happened?"

"We're free to go."

"You mean, you aren't going to jail?"

In response, the cop started his car and pulled back into the road. I took a deep breath and turned my own keys in the ignition. I accelerated to the speed limit and carefully got us back to school.

"You realize that you're the luckiest person in the world."