When the Seagrape was closed, everyone (well, maybe not everyone, but a majority of people) at the beach had to relive the days of actually having to drive to a bar. This meant that someone was going to have to drive to the bar and then someone was going to drive back.
Now, the responsible thing would be to have what we call a “designated driver.” As the designated driver you are expected to drive everyone who came along with you home safely. Basically, you have to give up your night of fun.
But we all know that being a real designated driver is never that simple. When your friends know that you are the one driving, their worries tend to disappear.
In the beginning of this semester I was sick and didn’t really want to drink, so a few of my girlfriends and a couple of random guys piled into my piece of crap, tiny Saturn and headed off to an eventful night at Bravo. That was my first mistake.
However, I stuck to my promise and made sure I only had one drink. I thought one glass of wine throughout the night was acceptable.
I mean I did have to watch as my friends got completely wasted. I wasn’t just going to stand there. So I thought to myself, what to do, what to do? I wasn’t having the greatest time, so I went outside, chain smoked and socialized with a guy who was also having a cigarette.
I then told him how I was the “designated driver” and how pathetic it was that I could only have one glass of wine all night. My big mouth rambled on saying that I would definitely pass a breathalizer test with only one glass of wine in my system.
Little did I know that I was talking to an off-duty cop. Just my luck, right?
He was cool about it, but told me that I shouldn’t finish the glass of wine because I probably wouldn’t pass, given that I am only like 5’1″ and the chances of me getting pulled over were pretty high. It seemed as if every Fairfield cop was parked in front of Bravo that night, waiting for the bar to close.
So there goes my night, literally, down the drain as I gave my wine back to the bartender who then threw it into the sink. I’m usually not the designated driver so I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into. All I knew was that it would be the first and last time I would volunteer.
To top off the night, the friends I had arrived with had gotten a ride with someone else.
So, I had to drive another group of random guys back to campus and deal with my good friend Tom who was very drunk – more drunk than I had ever seen him.
Before I ended my night as the designated driver, I had to get Tom out of some trouble because he thought it was completely appropriate to urinate right in front of a cop car. He was so drunk and thought nothing of it. Pulling out his penis in public is something he has never been embarrassed about. I guess I contributed to his bad behavior by telling him, “You better not piss in my car.”
The moral to this story: never, I mean never, volunteer to be a designated driver. Just spend the $8 on a cab.
Trust me, it will be worth it.
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