friends don’t let friends drive drunk
so i recently had an experience where i was driven by a friend that was drunk. what’s interesting about it, was how “text book” an experience it was.
he fetched me, and immediately headed on the highway, so it’s not a case of me being able to make him stop the car and hand over the keys. not that that would have helped anyway.
he switched between the sympathy-seeking, “i’m fucked, bru. wasted!” and the bravado of men-amongst-men, “let me show you what this car can do!”.
in a 20 minute drive, i managed to get him to slow down. numerous times.
i told him i was scared.
i almost gripped right through the handle above the door.
i began to tell him about all the things i still need to experience. want to experience.
i was petrified.
“i’m fucked, bru. wasted!” and the bravado of men-amongst-men, “let me show you what this car can do!”.
and then “i’m fine” in response to my protestations.
when he asked why the other drivers were flashing their lights at him, i told him that that was my life flashing before my eyes.
much laughter from the driver seat. more white knuckles on my side.
when we finally got to our destination, my attempts to take the key out of the ignition were responded to very quickly. and in true textbook style my efforts to save both of our futures was rebelled again.
i managed to peel his hands off the keys and announce to him that he would not be driving again.
sadly, i was not yet able to smile, even inwardly, when he walked into some rose bushes and got pricked mercilessly. that only came days later.
friends don’t let friends drive drink. or even enemies. it’s just not cool.