There are just somethings you can’t mix with alcohol.
For me, it’s rum and coke. The mixture takes me back to when I was nineteen throwing up on a pool deck, looking at myself naked in the bathroom mirror, and being so bloated from a bad bean and cheese burrito that I thought the ER was an actual possibility that night.
I haven’t been able to mix rum and coke together ever since. Even the thought makes me want to puke.
That is just the mixture that absolutely kills me, but just because it isn’t my cocktail, doesn’t mean someone is not drinking.
However, there are two things that never mix well together for anyone: drinking and driving.
According to my mom, the sound that woke her up was a hard crash that settled within a few seconds. The sound that woke me up was the sound of her panicked voice, her fist banging on my door, screaming my name, making sure I was in fact in the room.
As soon as I replied, in a long annoyed moan, “here,” her panic retreated only slightly, and she screamed for me to come outside and dial 911.
Half of my face went numb when I saw the wreckage. A flipped upside down Jeep Renegade, and my Ford Fiesta demolished and pushed onto the sidewalk.
Out of the dark came a girl, not much older than me. She was scratched, bleeding from her nose, and heavily smelt of alcohol. She didn’t deny this fact, she admitted to drinking to my dad, the police officers, and I. I don’t think I had ever felt this much anger in my life.
Sure, my car was only a material asset, and she came out with a broken nose at worst, but imagining what could have happened because of her decision to drink and get behind the wheel of a vehicle scared me.
If you had seen the wreckage of her car, you would understand why I was so frightened. The passenger side was completely crushed. If anyone had been sitting in that seat, it would have been instant lights out.
The worst part? She didn’t even get breathalyzed. I am yet to understand that fact.
The whole time she kept “reassuring” us that she was fine. That she had some drinks with her friends, but that she was “fine” to drive.
It has never been clearer that there is no such thing.
No. Such. Thing.
And looking at the scene, in the moment, I wonder if she actually believed what she told us, and what she had told herself before deciding to drive away from whatever bar she was at.
She even reeked of alcohol, but I doubt she could distinguish the smell that late at night.
I wonder how she felt the next day. A broken nose and two totaled cars later…
I imagine it was like waking up next to a stranger after a late night at a downtown bar: Regret. Shame. And that feeling you just can’t pin point. Except, much worse.
Let’s all remember that next time we get a silly idea to go out for drinks and leave time to “sober up.”
Simply, no such thing as “fine” when it comes to drinking and driving.