I’ve had a rough couple of years. Between a divorce, a complete mental breakdown, three major appliances crapping out on me and getting laid off from my job I managed to get myself arrested for a DUI. I’m not here for pity though. I will briefly explain what happened that led to my run in with the law, what fun the legal system is and the soul crushing bullshit that is probation. It’s all public record so what’s there to be embarrassed about? Just don’t tell my parents. Shhhh…yes, I’m too old for this to be a real issue. It’s for their peace of mind.
I am not not not encouraging anyone to drink and drive. Not even after a couple casual drinks apparently (Grumble…). I realize I will be judged for what I did. This was emotionally hard to write. Partially because of just that and partially just because, do me one favor, remember we all make mistakes/ judge not lest/he without sin blah blah. If you’re perfect, lambaste away. Complaining and criticizing are easy. Also, I have some loaves and fishes you can go feed the village with.
A little more than a year ago I was despondent over some of the aforementioned messes (especially the marital “bliss”) and went to have a couple after work drinks (I had found a job by then.) with a friend. We did just that. Couple drinks, some conversation, I think I may have had a cry, gave my friend a ride to another bar, dropped him off and headed home. Then I got hit by a truck. An 18-wheeled delivery lorry to be exact. I won’t go into the details of the wreck but it was determined to not be my fault and I was not ticketed for it. What I was ticketed and arrested for was the couple of drinks in my system that I was stupid enough to tell the cop about.
I am of slight build and had been involved in a wreck so I had no chance. Between officer’s discretion and the fact that I was going to blow around the limit (Which I did.) I was headed for jail. First lessons had already arrived. Ladies, you have no chance of not blowing close to the limit with even one drink in your system. Biology is just biased that way. Everyone, don’t tell the police anything, ANYTHING except your basic information before you speak to a lawyer. Yes, they will get mad at you. Yes, they will threaten you. Just remember your Miranda rights and be polite.
My second set of lessons arrived with the field sobriety test and Breathalyzer. I passed the field tests but according to my lawyer, it was a risk even taking them. Don’t. You’re just giving them evidence and frankly you could fail them sober if you’re a klutz or tired. Next came the Breathalyzer. Again, don’t take it. You don’t have to. You will lose your license for refusing but guess what? That’s going to happen more than likely anyhow. Here are some states that have slightly different penalties… refusal of breathalyzer …basically same idea though. Really just the duration and fine differ. I didn’t refuse. However being as that I had a cold I was having real problems getting enough air into the bastard thing to register thusly the cop in charge of administering the test was getting quite pissed at me. The obvious solution to his frustration? To scream at me of course. I realize he is probably used to people faking problems but he was just giving me a panic attack. Maybe I should’ve passed out. Since they wouldn’t let me take my prescription (Prescription! Prescribed to me by a doctor!) I suppose it was an option.
Well after being yelled at, I went to jail. Honestly, so long as you’re not in some scary maximum/city jail, jail is a cakewalk. Don’t be an asshole, don’t ask other people what they’re there for, hell don’t speak unless spoken to and leave your politics at home, including vegetarianism. The food is the worst part. I really hate grits but jail grits…wow.
After getting out the next morning I had life to deal with. Hire a lawyer, get my temp permit license (They take it from you, no matter what, guilty or innocent, upon arrest.), ask friends for help (This town runs on DUIs. No problem finding people who’d been there before.) and of course, pull money out of my ass.
My court date was about a month after my arrest. My lawyer managed to keep my driving permissions, on permit, for going to work, school and medical. We don’t have much in the way of public transportation or cabs that are worth a damn here so I would’ve been screwed. A bike ride through the ghetto to work doesn’t sound too awesome either. There was someone murdered a couple blocks from my work not so long ago.
I was sentenced with the usual crap and my new life as a stain on society began.
Being a parolee is a life of paperwork, appointments and bullshit. For myself I had to…
- Go to a victim’s impact panel
- DUI School for 24 hours spread out over 3 days
- Take a bunch of really silly tests about drug and alcohol that a middle schooler could pass.
- Attend my parole meeting each month
- Go see a shrink 3 times
- Do 40 hours of community service
- Be randomly drug and alcohol tested (Yes. No drinking a legal substance for a legal-age first offender and the alcohol tests are super sensitive so no cold meds etc.)
- Go back to jail for 12 hours
- Pay 200 dollars to have my driver’s license reinstated after 4 months
…All of these things were supposed to be done in a certain order which they, in hindsight, unsurprisingly, failed to tell me or put on my paperwork. Yay system. All of these things cost more money along with ticket fines and lawyer’s fees I was 10 kinds of broke and I still had to get my car fixed. Which brings me to another lesson. Pay everything ASAP. It’s really all your parole officer wants and then they ignore you largely. Also, if you’re late with any payments you go back to jail. Take out a damn loan. Sell a kidney in Eastern Europe. Seriously.
Going to see a shrink may have been the worst part. Invasive questions about my family life on a form seemed off subject and wooden but whatever. The socialism-hating flag-waving idiots in my town voted for this crap, right? This was neither helpful or really punishment. I wasn’t asked any questions that I see being any help to the legal system or society. If I had exhibited signs of serious alcoholism would’ve they made me go to one more session perhaps? Maybe a shrink who gave a shit would be able to help people. My burnt out public servant just had me fill out forms (Which are standard). These are not helpful therapists. It was like going to therapy at the post office on tax day. Awesome. Pointless. What do I know?
All in all it was a stressful nightmare. I was made to feel like a child molester or a child (I can’t decide), I was broke, everyone I met seemed to hate their jobs and I now have a serious disdain for how the legal system operates as I’ve seen it first hand. It’s depressing at best, a logistical nightmare at worst. It is a mistake you will pay for dearly and no one cares what the circumstances were. No grey areas. The legal system makes the DMV and IRS seem friendly and well-run. They have customer service departments even if they are crap.
I am lucky in certain ways though. As an artist, chances are it will never affect my ability to be hired anywhere. Though I will sit here and swear to you that I was not “drunk” I’m still happy to have not hurt anyone except myself. I did get hit by a damn 18-wheeler after all. I have a decent job so I was able to muddle through the costs. Had I needed to I’m sure my family would’ve helped as well. Again, they’re happier not knowing, I promise.
If it happens to you I’d say the two most important things to do are hire a lawyer and hang on to every single stupid piece of paper they hand you as filing mistakes are often, often made. And if you have any extra cash, get on some anti-depressants. Me? I’ll likely never go to another happy hour again, or have wine at a restaurant with dinner, or a champagne at a wedding, or a beer with my dad…because these are all situations where I wouldn’t be able to find a ride I’m sure and fuck it, I don’t want to know what happens to you for a second one.