After nachos, intoxicating conversation, an interpretive dance to an unknown 80’s power-pop song (think Kevin Bacon, warehouse scene, Footloose) in the middle of Moxie’s, and having dropped Kyler off at his house, I had nothing better to do than take myself home. Like a bat out of hell and following post-1:00 a.m. unwritten driving rules, I was driving really fast. The goal was to make it home before 1:30 a.m., a reasonable prospect given the distance and early morning empty road conditions. I was a little late, I made it home just after 4:00.
I could have been in bed by 1:30, slightly earlier even. All that would have been required different of me would have been to swerve around what was probably once a Subaru and ignore the petite white girl, dressed for a good time but having a really bad time bleeding out on the asphalt.
I do understand why someone would drive drunk; I get that, it’s not unknown to me. It’s not a wise decision, but wisdom isn’t one’s driving faculty when drunk. Many of us have been there. What I don’t understand is how overpriced country cabaret tequila and laxatives cut with blow and whatever else is on the bathroom counter at Gabby’s can apparently turn you into Ken fucking Block. But it seems like the even more expensive alcohol and driving cocktail too frequently ends the same way. I’ve heard more stories of friends walking away from rolled vehicles than I’m interested in remembering, and some stories of friends not walking away that I can’t forget. Awareness isn’t the issue, and I don’t know what is. I imagine it’s quite unlikely that I or any of my loved ones will be struck by a carelessly drunk driver, but I refuse to think about what I’d do if that ever happened.
So after tearing through my trunk looking for a first aid kit and a flashlight and remembering I recently relocated the first aid kid, as we typically do to things shortly before needing them, I introduced myself as someone who, sorry, doesn’t have cigarettes but can still help you if you’d like while we await the paramedics. Evidently the cigarettes would have been more useful. Well no one asked if the paramedics had smokes but they seemed to know what they were doing regardless. They sauntered on over, asked a few questions, casually inspected the female, and determined that she’d need a stretcher. The detached routine essence that these paramedics portrayed, I’m not sure if it was assuring or if it should have been distressing. Because if television has taught me anything it’s that there were supposed to be two really attractive ladies and one well built man racing against time and workplace drama to get this poor girl onto that stretcher, all while talking about Lisa who is pregnant with Jeremy’s child. Not two exhausted looking men, eager for nothing, thirst quenched by one coffee to many.
According to the National Post, Canada is ranked worst amongst the 19 richest countries in the world for drinking and driving related deaths. It was noted that while fewer people die from motor vehicle accidents, the percentage related to alcohol is much higher. MADD estimates that in Canada, 2,541 individuals were killed in motor vehicle crashes in 2010 with at least 1,082 of those fatalities impairment-related. Apparently the rates of impaired driving “crime” in Canada are dropping, but they’re dropping much too slowly. Perhaps the rates are dropping because reoffend rates tend to be low when offences so regularly end the offender. MADD contends that more 19-year-olds die or are seriously injured than any other age group. Car crashes are the leading cause of death among 16 to 25 year olds. Alcohol and / or drug impairment is a factor in 55 per cent of those crashes—just a factor.
The world of numbers and factors and stats might help paint a scene, but it doesn’t step into the picture and say “bro, you’ve had too many.” As unnecessary or silly as those or as any words might seem in the moment, in the final act everything becomes more meaningful. In the epitaph, it all was meaningful. It was upsetting to hear, and completely irrelevant after the fact, that Mr. back-seat-passenger told Mr. driver to slow down 30 seconds before they lost control. Or relinquished control, submitted control, completely surrendered control, gave up control without even a fight, whatever most accurately describes the ordeal. The many and unknowable events that lead up to a final event are the ones that you give permission to, the ones you submit to.
So why does it keep happening? It all seems like an issue of decision making to me, nothing else. I don’t believe laws are the answer, as some might say. Laws give people an excuse; they remove the morality from decision making. I’ll agree that the current impaired driving laws are absolutely and unequivocally pathetic and in dire need of rethinking, but problems like this can’t be legislated away. Truthfully, the system is functioning. The firefighters, the RCMP, the paramedics, they all showed up for work and upheld their end of the bargain. Some kid might pay a fine, say he’s sorry and he’ll probably mean it. No one died, no major property damages were inflicted. The system functions, but it’s not working. We know it doesn’t work because the same thing is going to happen this weekend. Everyone will show up for the same show, run through the same motions, they’ll lift a hysteric 19-year-old into the back of an ambulance, looking at her and me with burdened, struggling to be empathetic, eyes. Another, dismayed kid trying to control the story his face tells, balancing the appearance of concern with the obvious fears consuming him, he’ll be cuffed and wait for another ambulance. This time, everyone gets to go home. Not bad.
Whoever it was that I stopped for—post-gaming the club, pre-gaming the hospital—might have something different to say, and that’s okay. I’m not speaking for them and I’m not speaking against them. I’m selfishly speaking for friends, my family, and myself. Some problems are self-righting. They solve, remove, or consume themselves, but people problems tend to have collateral damage.
