Automobile.....CRASH!

Starting on some of my past history type stories and I figured I’d share one of my more…entertaining ones to get things started. Today’s tale takes as way back to the August of 1996, this was during those “dark” years of my life. Fear not though I’m sure you’ll find at least one or two things to have a good laugh over. This tale does involve drunk driving which is a something I no longer do at any cost, however in my previous life it was a common occurrence.

The evening started innocently enough Josh (my lifelong BFF until an even I’ll post in another entry) I doing our usual….getting as wasted as possible. We had met a fraternity brother of mine True at a local pool hall and spent the night drinking, doing shots of tequila and shooting pool.

I don’t recall at what point we decided it was time to head home but I’d imagine it was either closing time or they tossed out, could have easily been either or both though. We headed to the parking lot to my car which was a brand new Pontiac Sunfire my parents had purchased for me as a graduation present from college. I didn’t actually graduate but I told them I was going to so yeah they were pleased (again another entry to explain that one).

Anyhow, I do recall pulling my keys out of my pocket, dropping them on the ground and spending several minutes trying to pick them back up before hopping in and hitting the road. For all you kids out here if you experience this it’s a good idea to NOT drive at that point.

The drive from the poolhall to my Moms home where both Josh and I were living (yeah you guessed it another entry) was about a 10-15 minute drive down a single lane highway (291 south). I don’t recall anything from the time we pulled out until I woke up sometime later very confused as to why my entire windshield was busted out. My first reaction was to start my car and back up, as I put the car in reverse it would not move. Looking to my left I noticed I was apparently wedged against a truck I had crashed into. Deciding out was going nowhere and it was best to get the hell out I climbed over the console into the passenger seat and promptly fell out the passenger door onto the ground. I look up to see a cop standing over me with a flashlight in my face.

He gets me upright and asks where I was headed looking around I realize I’m on my Mom’s street about two houses up from her home. Pointing to my house I tell him “I’m headed to my house right there, and here comes my mom”.

As I found out later I had somehow managed to make it all the way nearly to my house but had been driving through the subdivision at a high rate of speed (60mph or above). They estimated my speed by the skid marks I had left take the 90 degree turn onto my mothers street without breaking. I had sped down her street, crashed into the rear of a camaro that had been parked on the right hand side curb. The camaro disintegrated from the rear bumper all the way to the back of the front seats, been tossed in the air and turned 180 degrees and came to rest facing up the street on the right hand side. After hitting the camaro I had veered to the left side of the street and slammed into a truck that was parked there. The airbags in my car had deployed however did not inflate, this resulted in some bruising of my chest but given the size of my car and my build (kinda tall) my legs tangled under the dash which is what kept me inside the vehicle as neither of us were wearing seatbelts. My passenger Josh had been thrown forward from the force of the impact and much like myself his legs tangled under the dash keeping him inside the car as well. He also had managed to throw his arm in front of his face shielding himself from the impact of hitting the windshield.

The cop then begins to give me the standard field sobriety tests, follow the pen with your eyes, ABCs, and walk a straight line. After falling down twice attempting to walk a straight line I politely told the cop this was pretty pointless and I was clearly drunk and further tests were not necessary. He agrees and proceeds to cuff me behind my back and lead me to his waiting squad car. As this is going on a large crowd of my neighbors is forming to see what had happened. I had lived in this neighborhood my entire life so there was no shortage of people who knew exactly who I was and sadly were none to surprised to that the “Jarrett boy” was again in trouble(again more on this at a later date).

I politely asked the officer is I could have my hands cuffed in front of me as it was rather uncomfortable to be cuffed behind. He said no, I advised that I was surely not a flight risk based on my condition but again he quoted policy and left me cuffed as is while putting me into his car. He also asked where my passenger went and I was a little miffed at that myself as I had no idea where Josh had gone. Looking across the street we noticed the paramedics standing over someone in my neighbors yard, ah there he is I say. At that exact moment the medic bends over Josh to check his vitals I assume and I see Josh deliver a right cross to the medics chin. Josh has been unconscious or passed out or both and freaked out to wake up to someone’s hands all over him and reacted in typical Josh fashion. Luckily he was not booked that night and allowed to return to my Mom’s house and sleep it off after he refused medical treatment.

In the back of the squad car now I begin to get restless and decide the cuffs are far too uncomfortable and I need to do something about it. Pulling my hands down by my feet I step through the cuffs and bring my hands up in front of me, ah that’s better much more comfortable. The officer comes back to check on me, and seeing my hands in front pulls me out and recuffs me telling me not to do that again. I try and plead my case yet again in a very polite way and he again refuses. There may or may not have been a threat of resisting arrest charges issued at this point I don’t honestly recall.

Have I mentioned I’m stubborn? So no sooner than he’s turned his back I of course do it again. Watchful of me now he comes back and we repeat this exercise several more times, much to his frustration. I am however being very friendly and using all my manners the entire time (albeit VERY drunk).

Finally we embark on our journey down to the cop shop, I’m of course being very talkative and chatting them up. They are surprisingly accommodating and later on the police report there were notations of how “polite and cooperative” I was….despite the filing of the resisting arrest charges, but that’s a little later in our tale.

We arrive at the station and I’m booked in, finger printed and all that good stuff. They take me to a little room to perform the breathalyzer test. Pretty simple really sit in a chair and blow into a plastic tube for 30 seconds or so. My first attempt I manage to knock the mouthpiece off onto the floor. Second try goes much better and I get a good reading, and by good I mean a .36. I’m asked if I wish to go to the emergency room, Heck no I feel great but I’d take a smoke. That request is denied and they tell me that technically at .30 I should be in a coma. Three cheers for a family tree full of alcoholics I reckon!

Having been “processed” by The Man, I’m placed in the drunk tank or holding cell. I’m the only occupant this evening and the guard (Officer Friendly) leaves to go do her rounds, drink coffee, harass other inmates or whatever shortly after I’m placed in there. The room is pretty boring, tile floor, couple concrete walls, one with bars where the door is and one that faces the guards deck/processing room. On that wall however there’s a cut out in the wire cage just big enough to slide the phone through for your one phone call. Slightly above that and to the right is a Plexiglas window that can be opened from the guard’s side to be able to pass items through if need be.

After sitting there for a couple of hours bored out of my mind, with no smokes I decide I’ve had enough and I either need a smoke or I need to go home. Using my infinite wisdom I figure I can probably put my arm through the phone cut out and reach around and unlatch the window. Once that’s done I can slide the window open and get through and grab my smokes, or just leave you know whichever tickled my fancy.

It actually goes pretty well considering the amount of booze in my body and my natural lack of coordination and I get the window open on the first try. Very pleased with myself I begin to pull myself up into the window, it sat high enough of the ground I had to kind pull/hop myself up onto the ledge a bit with my legs dangling above the floor. I get about halfway through the window to where the window sill is at my waist when I hear a jangling kinda noise……

Looking up I see my good friend Officer Friendly rounding the corner. Her first look is of shock, but that was quickly replaced with the Ivan Drago look from Rocky IV where he tells Rocky “I must break you”. A bit shocked myself I start to try and backpedal through the window, recall my feet aren’t touching the floor so it’s not exactly very productive. She enters the office, cocks back her fist and punches me square flush in the forehead……I’ve never been hit so hard in my life. Which is saying a lot I’ve taken some beatings in my day. Dazed from the impact of the blow and still pretty much hanging in the air I fall backwards and back through the window. On the way through though my right forearm catches on the sill taking a nice slice of meat out of my arm. I fall to the ground inside the cell and smack my head on the tile floor.

I’m literally seeing stars now and looking up shaking my head I see my good friend Officer Friendly fumbling with her keys to open the holding cell with one hand and drawing her nightstick with the other. At this point I pretty much figure I’m done for so I assume the position….the fetal position hoping that I can at least make it out of this with what little brain I have left intact.

She gets the door open and proceeds to do the kick whack, kick whack routine on me for a good couple of minutes. Either it was her feeding time or she grew tired of my lack of response or fighting back she decided I had enough and stopped and went back to her side of the gate. Funny thing was she never said a word the entire time either. Not sure if I just wasn’t her type or what the deal was but even during or after she never said squat to me.

It was a nice addition to my already growing list of charges I think they called it attempted flight on the police report. She did fail to put any comments like the other officers had though about how polite I was….ah well her loss I suppose. I obviously was not her type, probably too adventurous for her or something.

Couple hours later, bail bondsman shows up and I’m released to my Mother and I head home and sleep it off for a few hours.

So there ya go. Just one of the many fun filled tales from my past. I’m working on hopefully getting all of this down in a manuscript eventually. I thought it best to start with a few choice tales first and see how it went as I’ve never put any of it down as of yet. Didn’t really expect it to run this long but hey if you’ve hung in there this long I do thank you J

Now get back to work or whatever else you were doing and watch out for blonde cops with big nightsticks……