Sobriety

In Ontario province, sobriety tests are something that police officers prefer to administer door-to-door. I was fortunate enough to catch a roadblock sobriety test on my way from one place to another, on my way to the Gardiner Expressway, which can be driven upon in very fast or very very slow manners.

Don't worry, i did not get a DUI or anything. It is just that it is never a good idea to be honest, and it's even less of a good idea when police officers are involved. But when the dude stopped me and asked if i'd had anything to drink, i said that i'd had a beer with dinner. I stopped short of describing the delightful hoppy flavour, which was hoppy.

The police officer had me pull over and meet him at his car. I was excited, because this would be my first time blowing into a drunkenness gauge on the side of the road in front of all manner of automobiles and pedestrians and other folks with rubbered neckses.

The police officer and i carried on in very boring and matter-of-fact ways. It was the most sober scene ever. I was proud of myself for the way i always seem very bored and unconcerned and melancholy even when i am not, because it is on rare occasions like this when it pays off because you are being tested for being drunk and reckless and recklessly drunk.

Anyway, i totally blew a 008 the first time and a 007 the second time. My drunkenness was decreasing by 001 every ten seconds or so. Although i could not see where the decimal point was in the dark, and the police officer was not giving any indication of whether or not i was in trouble, so this was cause for concern.

The police officer decided to be mysterious, and asked for my license and started writing information onto his carbon-copying pad. I continued to be sober and bored-looking and did not say anything. I am pretty sure that the police officer was wanting me to get bent out of shape and flip out about how i was innocent and only had one beer and this was ridiculous, and then he would be allowed to grab my wrist and snap my arm into two more pieces and slam my ribs into his cruiser and break as many of those as he could, too, and on and on until my Canadian life was ruined and i would have to go back to America to be splendourous, again.

But i did not get bent out of shape. Although i did ask about the possibility of getting a blood test, if this would help to confirm my innocence. This is not an offer i will make every day to just anyone, but all the same the police officer did not think that it deserved a response, and so did not say anything at all.

So i just looked around at streetlights as he wrote up the ticket, which turned out to not be a ticket. I was even nice enough to help condemn myself by iterating my license plate number for him.

So when he was done, i decided to ask in a very polite way, was i over a legal limit for DUI, sir?

The response boiled down to me being several factors-of-ten below the limit, which means that my decimal point moves slowly, and i could easily dissolve seventeen pints of fine ale into my bloodstream, and still be the best driver in four counties. This is not exactly what the police officer said, but i took a liberty in analyzing his conclusions.

All in all, it was a worthwhile experience, because i feel as if i am more seedy and less innocent, now. Soon, i may decide to start carrying a switchblade with me, as soon as i can find a decent switchblade holster.