I love the spotlight, but taking a walk of shame in front of a small tribe of mostly individuals you just barely know, is the worst. I wish I had some beautiful language to explain to you all the pure misery of it, but I don’t. I felt like every critical eye and heart in Copiah County was raining its judgement down on me. I hadn’t even been arrested yet but was presumed guilty of something. After watching Varsity Blues, i wanted my name called out in stadiums on Friday nights, but not like this.
Kobe continued to talk about running into the woods the whole time. I knew it was going to be bad, but Marissa was not going to date a fugitive. She would make-out with me a lot. At least, she did before everyone knew I was a drunk. As I walked, I thought, that If she was going to stop letting me be a curious 10th grade boy, then I may think a little harder about spending my latter teens in the woods. Then I remembered the look she would give me, when her favorite song would play, and I trudged on toward my destiny.
One deputy was waiting for us at the beginning of the parking lot. He wanted to know, “Who is Bardin, and is that your maroon truck?”
As we walked, I said, “Yes sir, I’m Bardin. That is my truck. We left our friend Ai out here. He is, uhhhh, errr, under the weather.”
He stared blankly at as me, so I digressed, “He was going to sleep, while we went down to check out the cheerleaders, I mean football game. My girl is already mad at me. Honestly sir, I didn’t even notice any cheerleaders. Noel, did the schools bring cheerleaders?”
I winked at the deputy as I said this. He didn’t smile. I actually thought for a second that he may hit me. I wasn’t sure what could be so bad that all this was happening. I quickly realized our dilemma, when I turned from the deputy and finally could see my truck and the other deputy. My heart dropped.
All the doors to my truck were wide open. On my tool box were a multitude of liquor bottles and beer cans. It looked like wayyyyy too much for 4 people to drink and be around others. As I thought this, I looked down and saw Ai. He looked like he was on the set of “Weekend at Bernies 3: The Crew Goes Country in Copiah”.
He was conscious in a very subjective way. He couldn’t form words. His eyes weren’t opened, but he was moving his head like he could see. He couldn’t stand up by himself. He could form what he thought were words, and he was leaning against my truck, just barely keeping his balance. Ai was making noises. He was having a stern, one-sided conversation, bordering on lecture, with someone who was not there. The cop was busy searching my car, so Ai wasn’t talking to him. I looked back at Kobe and Noel to see if they were seeing what I was seeing. Noel had the same look of shock that I did. Kobe looked at me at the same time and mouthed the word “woods”, as he pointed to an acre of trees that were about 100 yards away.
I knew not to even entertain that idea. Marissa was counting on me. We approached my truck, as the searching deputy stopped and turned his attention to us. They wanted to know how much we had drank, and how we had gotten the alcohol.
All 3 members of my party that could still speak in sentences were skilled story tellers. If a situation didn’t seem to be going our way, we were all well equipped at spinning the story back into our favor. Any time, cops approach a group of people, it is important for them separate the would be criminals. This helps gets the correct story. I knew this, even, in high school. The deputies did not know this, though. They thought they were dealing with amateurs. They were not.
I was driving. I had a lot to lose here, so I decided to speak up. I have known for years that in country Mississippi, most cops aren’t going to get mad at someone who drinks with a sober driver, doesn’t matter their age. That meant that the whole conclusion of this night was going to be decided by what I could convince these cops about my level of sobriety.
It was obvious that we had some drunk teenagers on our hands, but i wasn’t 1 of them . I told the cops that I wasn’t a drinker. I was actually on the student council, but that my friends liked to party a little bit on the weekends. I was usually their DD. I was prepared for the cops to pull out a breathalyzer but didn’t want them to know this, so I added, “Now, officers, I need to be honest with y’all. I did take a drink of beer and a drink of that coconut stuff. It’s too sweet for me, though. I didn’t like it. I definitely didn’t like the beer. I’m glad I don’t drink.”
Right in turn, the Dep1 said, “I’d like to get all of y’all to blow in this little machine for me.”
I don’t remember what my each of my friends blew, but I remember exactly what I made that little machine register, .14. .14 is almost twice that legal limit for someone who is over 21. I was 16 and 3/4, so my BAC was 7 times the legal limit. Luckily, I knew what to do. I stayed the course with my lie. I immediately said, “I told y’all I never drink. I obviously have such a low tolerance, that those 2 sips I took are really jumpin right now.”
The cops looked at each other. Dep2 looked at my friends and asked, “How much does your buddy drink?”
Noel spoke up, “He never drinks. That was probably the first sip of alcohol he’s ever had. He’s our “driver”. He’s our friend, but more importantly, he drives us around.”
Noel finished with a wink at me. I felt like I may need to seriously look at the depth of all my friendships, but his answer did go right a long with what I was trying to tell the cops. I felt like I really was in the driver’s seat now.
My bliss didn’t last long. Ai decided to speak up again, loudly. No idea what he said. What he said wasn’t important. What was important was what Ai looked like. He looked 12. Ai was 5’3”, when standing straight up. He was at about 4’7”, when leaning against my truck, looking like a child sized crash-dummy. After his noise, the cops stepped away to talk. About this time my principle, Coach B, walked up.
He stood and talked to the deputies. He then approached me and asked if I had been drinking. I went through my whole spill again. I may have blown .14, but I was really spinning a beautiful tale of naivety and innocence. I layed it on thick. My parents had no idea I had started drinking. I didn’t need them to find out now. After you get caught doing something, it is way harder to get away with that thing in the future. I wasn’t planning on quitting drinking. My mom and dad were going to be upset with me after this night, no matter what. I was in damage control. If Coach B would believe I wasn’t drinking after blowing a .14, then I could probably get my parents to believe the same thing.
Coach B was obviously upset with us. I was pretty sure that he believed me, but I knew how crazy my story sounded. He went and spoke with the cops some more, before coming back to us with the ruling. These few minutes so many years ago, still feel like an eternity to me today. I may have been drunk, but I was worried.
He came and explained to us that we weren’t going to jail. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Coach B was going to contact all of my friend’s parents to come pick them up. He knew my parents weren’t at home, so he wasn’t sure what to do. Coach B told me he knew that I had not been drinking that night (SCORE!!!!!), but that he was scared to let me drive home, at 16, after blowing so high, even if it was just a sip or 2. He decided to drive me home and to get his wife to come pick him up from my house… Talk about an awkward ride home.
I woke up Saturday morning a nervous wreck. I may be able to tell my parents that Coach B thought I was sober, but I was worried that my dad may kill me, either way. It was all I thought about all day. I didn’t talk to anyone. My dad may not have been there to kill me yet, but I was still ready to die. The suspense haunted me. I wanted it to be over. They weren’t coming home until late Sunday. That Saturday is still one of the most miserable days of my life.
I woke up Sunday morning and knew there was no way I was gonna make it another whole day. I called my mom and said, “Mom I’m ok. I’m not hurt, but I need y’all to come home immediately. I need to talk to y’all yesterday.”
An hour later my parents pulled into the drive. With sweaty palms, I gave them my spill. I told them everything, including that I was not drunk. They wanted to know what I blew. I said, “A .14, but that doesn’t mean anything. I never drink. The cops and Coach B know a lot about this, mom. They knew exactly what I was saying. Sure I blew a lot, but it was just a weird tolerance/timing thing. It probably can’t be explained, without me using some words that none of us know what they mean.”
Like moms do, my mom so wanted to hold on to her youngest-born’s innocence. She want to believe me. She looked questioning and concerned. My dad looked a little different. He looked red and hot. He wanted to know, “Why do all of your loser friends pile up in your truck to get drunk? Why, if you are sober, do you allow them to do this? Can you not control what goes on in your truck? Do they run you?”
I didn’t answer.
He continued, “I bet your truck is destroyed. Let’s go look at it.”
I was dreading this. I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know how bad it was in there. Nothing in the front seat was shocking, except for the smell. As we moved to the back-seat, where Ai had been laying, the smell got worse. My dad soon figured out what this putrid funk was. Ai had thrown-up in my back-seat 2 days before!!!! I did not realize it and had not cleaned it up, at all. I knew it smelled like the wrong end of a terrible night in there, but I didn’t know we were going to find 2 day old throw-up. It was gross.
Even now, as I write this, while sitting in class, a nervous tightness gathers in my stomach about this. It spreads from my stomach into my diaphragm, all the way to the tips of my fingers. I still feel a tight intimidation, luckily I didn’t show it that day, all those years ago.😉
As my dad walked up to me, in our driveway, I had never seen him so mad. This was it. I shouldn’t have called them to clear my conscious; I should have ditched my phone and run into the woods days ago. It was too late to run now, though. I was the tin-man, and no oil was in sight. As he approached, he put his two front knuckles into my chest and said, “What is wrong with you? I should have never given you this vehicle. You’re a kid. A truck like that isn’t for a kid. It’s for a man who realizes that it can be an instrument of life or death. Are you a man?”
As he finished, he dropped his knuckles from my chest and waited on an answer. It was time for me to be a man, to take responsibility and grow up. I was ready to speak, as I opened my mouth to give my dad a manly dissertation and said the only thing I could. In my smallest voice, I said, “Ow.”
I may not have said yes or no, but i definitely answered my dads question. i was a boy. I felt like the smallest little human in the world. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. He told me to grow up and clean “his” truck. At this point, the only thing that belonged to me was my shame.
Things were bad, but I knew they were going to get worst the next day at school. HCS had an honor council system. It was a council of the highest positions on the student council. When students got into serious trouble, they had to go before the peer-led honor council to receive their final sentence.
The council was chaired by the student holding the gavel, the student body president(sbp). The sbp had a lot of influence and power, in my eyes. I was intrigued by this position. I had kind of planned to be the man on the other side of the gavel my senior year. Those dreams were completely nixed now. I was just hoping to not be suspended for the rest of the semester. I was now the kid that parents would tell their kid to not hang out with. I wanted to be the sbp, not the 6th member of the breakfast club.
Sunday night was one of those nights where you don’t go to sleep, because time goes faster when you sleep. It was fine with me if Monday ever came. Prayer is a powerful thing, but God doesn’t always answer prayers the way we want him to. After finally going to sleep, I woke up Monday morning, and I was still breathing.
Comments