No, it’s not. And here’s the interesting thing — once I barfed all of that out, I remembered an incident that occurred twenty years ago, when I was a young, cute thing in a skin tight skirt slit up to there…
I had been out barhopping with a friend and that night, she happened to be drunker than I was so I was driving us home. I was pulled over for a broken taillight and when the officer looked me up, it turned out there was a bench warrant out for my arrest because of an unpaid ticket in my college town, 500 miles away.
I was absolutely sure that I was going to get a DUI and spend the night in jail, because I was hammered. But I was 22, and cute, and dressed up, and even though the officer had to take me to the overnight magistrate to deal with the warrant, he did not give me a breathalyzer, or make any mention of my drinking at all. What he did say was,
You’re a cutie. That dress is hot.
To which I replied, simply,
(of course, I smiled sweetly, even though he was 50 with bad breath and wandering hands, because he was not arresting me and even as drunk as I was, I knew he should be.)
He drove me to the magistrate. I sat across from him and answered his questions, apparently to his satisfaction, because even though he smelled the booze wafting off me from across the room and asked if I’d been drinking, my “I had a couple of beers, but not for a couple of hours” response was as far as it went.
I paid my ticket, and the officer drove me back to my car, told me to drive safely and take care of myself, and winked.
And I can’t help but wonder now, if nothing had been different but the color of my skin — what might that night have been like for me?
So, there it is.