Coping with your DUI  One of the most brutal donkey punches to a person's life, alongside such
tragedies such as: birthing a retarded baby, gangrene, and bankruptcy is the
dreadful DUI. It's so tragic that they should make sympathy greeting cards
for it. *Especially* if you live in California, a DUI is simply a horrid,
unforgiving, punishment, that seems to go on forever. It almost makes you
wish you had driven into a tree and burst into flames.
Sure you *should* have taken a cab home last night, but that would be costly, you'd have to wait for it to arrive, *and* suffer through wafts of BO cascading out of the driver's pits. Then, what if you end up on *Taxi Cab Confessions* talking about your g-warts? You'd never get laid again! Then the next day you would have to get a ride back to your car. Eff that! You're not *that* drunk. Ugh! Just hop behind the wheel, what's the worst that could happen? Then suddenly those wrenched lights appear in your rear view mirror. Maybe it’s Animal Control and you merely have a raccoon clinging to your bumper? He will simply ask you to pull over so the little bastard can run into the woods. Nope, it's the fuzz, and you're off to spend a night in the clink. Although I don't have a DUI myself, I can feel your pain, and I deserve many. I kneel on my little rug each morning, thank Allah for not giving me one, and promise to carry out his wishes in return. (Note to policemen reading this: if you pull me over drunk, I'll do ANYTHING to get out of a DUI: back door, front door, Cleveland steamer, dirty Sanchez, mow the lawn, do your taxes, wash the squad cars in a gorilla suit, change the litter box, murder your in-laws.) Many of my friends have received a DUI, and they all say the same things! The feelings intensify with each subsequent DUI. Here, to ease you through the awful transition are the 5 stages of grief – normally helpful when coping with the death of a loved one – applied to your DUI. Denial No big deal, I'll get out of this. Their Breathalyzer was broken. That policeman was inept/unfair/not wearing his corrective lenses. Johnny Cochran himself will crawl out of the grave to defend me. Everything will be fine, I will keep my drivers license. This is a small matter that I will squash in a short matter of days. Anger How dare they convict me!! I paid for a lawyer and everything! I only had 4 glasses of Boone's Farm! I could still drive just fine! I knew I shouldn't have gone to visit Uncle Cleatus, that rat bastard, this is his fault. Why didn't I take the frontage road, why?? Bargaining Please, if I could just get it down to a wet and reckless, it would be ok. Depression My life is over, I have no driver’s license, I'm drowning in a sea of fines, there is no coming back from this, this is the worst thing that could possibly happen to me. Wail! Acceptance I'll do my time, and pay the fines. I have no choice. I will eventually emerge from this hell of my own making, poorer, but wiser. After all, everybody makes mistakes, even Mel Gibson has a DUI and he's Jesus' BFF. I know things look bleak now, but stay strong and get yourself a bus pass or a horse. And for eff's sake don't get another one! If you somehow get a fourth one, pull over, jump out of the car, and sprint to the nearest semi to be run over. The fourth is time to end your life.###
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All contents © 2008 by Gene Mahoney |
