The night before the game, Jimmy and I went to the store for food and liquor. I had just turned 18, so I needed one of my older friends there to do the actual buying. We strolled through the liquor aisle, grabbed two thirty packs of MGD and Jimmy loved to barbecue, so he bought a ton of grilling meats and poultry. Jimmy figured we were set, but I had to grab a fifth of J.D. That was my specialty. I didnt mind sharing, but I knew nobody would drink the hard stuff with me. We left the store and dropped off the supplies at Jimmys house. Nobody knew who was going to drive yet. It is always best to not plan that part of any event. People have a tendency to not follow through, or their cars have that tendency.
The morning of the game I woke up early, even though I was nursing a hangover from the night before. I went outside for a smoke, and realized it was going to be a cold day. Luckily, I worked outside, so I had all the right clothes to wear. I put on two thermal tops, a hoodie, and an insulated flannel to keep all that warmth inside. If you know about Soldier Field back in the day before they renovated the stadium, then you should understand. I also put on two pairs of sweatpants underneath my jeans. I think I put on three pairs of socks, but who knows. I arrived at Jimmys house on the North side of Chicago about 8 A.M. Sean showed up right after me, and Karen obviously was already there from the night before.
We all talked about who would drive. Sean volunteered because he had an old-school Brady Bunch station wagon. It would be perfect for hauling the grill and all the supplies. I called Jimmy before I left my house to tell him I needed a quarter. He told me all he had left was shake. I said I didnt mind, it was all going to be rolled up anyway, the shake would just save me time from cleaning out all the stems. He brought me out the sack, and we all piled into Seans beater. The trip downtown to Soldier Field was filled with a clam-baked car, three stoned dudes, and one Psycho girlfriend who didnt smoke weed.
We pulled into the south lot of Soldier Field and found a great spot not far from the South entrance to the stadium. We piled out and began setting up for the tailgate party. My three compadres cracked open some chilled brews, and I cracked open some good old Tennessee Whiskey. We had a great time drinking and eating while we listened to the pre-game show on The Score. The Truck next to us had a great sound system in their truck. It was a good time. Around 11 A.M., I began to fix myself some drinks to take in the stadium with me. I grabbed two bottles of Pepsi, and dumped out half of their contents onto the pavement. My friends watched me curiously. I filled up the empty halves of the two bottles with Jack Daniels. I slid the bottles into my back pockets, and fixed my hoodie so the security at the entrance would not see them. We kicked out the used charcoal into the metal garbage can that everyone used for the same thing. We piled everything back into the car. Sean and Jimmy tried to pound as many beers as they could before we had to go in. I tried to keep up, but beer never was my strong point when I was younger. That of course changed, which I will tell you about later.
The four of us, headed for the South Entrance. We had about a half hour until kickoff. We made our way up to our seats. We had four seats on the Northwest side of the field, just off to the side of the goal posts. They were not bad seats, but I am glad I dressed warm. I am also glad I drank a lot of whiskey. I still dont know whether the clothes or the liquor kept me warmer. We arrived at our section, and next to the signs that designated that particular section, was another sign that read, NO ALCOHOL SECTION. We all laughed at it as we made our way up the steps to our seats. We shuffled past our neighbors and sat down. Karen luckily sat on the other end, and then Jimmy, and Sean sat next to me, with me being on the end. I found out later that you were not allowed to drink in that section, and they didnt have beer vendors either. Nobody I was with; followed that rule too well.
I had fun with my Pepsi and Jack. By the beginning of the third quarter, the Bears were getting stomped by the Broncos. I was really enjoying the game. Everyone around me knew this, because I was very verbal. Trust me when I say verbal, I mean I used every swear word in the English language throughout the game. It became so bad, the four old people who sat in front of us, kept squirming and looking back at me. There were two women who would whisper to their husbands, and then their husbands would look back and cowl at me. Finally, one decided to ask me to please refrain from swearing so much. I apologized but couldnt help myself from doing it again. I mean the Bears had a real bad team that year. They just couldnt do anything with their offense. Their defense was average, but the defense cant win every game. What happened next still makes me laugh. People say liquor is courage juice. They are not lying. I finally got fed up with the old people turning around and making comments. Finally, I told them I would escort them out to the parking lot and we could settle our disagreement like gentleman. Of course, my friends were not going to back me up. They were smart and headed out of the game at the end of the third quarter.
I should have left too, but I didnt. In the middle of fourth quarter, I had become so belligerent with my neighbors that their wives made them leave early. I was surrounded by empty seats and enjoying every minute of it. The warmth from the alcohol and fresh falling snow, made me smile. I felt like I had proven my manhood by running off the old people. Honestly, I was just an ass trying to pick a fight with someone who didnt deserve my attitude.
The game ended and the Bears lost. That was no surprise. I stumbled out to the car, hoping there would be some hot food to eat. I remember bouncing off of people on my way out of the stadium. I had to keep my momentum going because otherwise I was going to crash to the pavement. I almost lost it a few times on my way, but I successfully ran the gauntlet of disappointed fans. My friends had more than enough time to grill up the last of the chicken. By the time I reached the car, I was sweating, nauseous, and out of breathe. I also could not see straight. I went and grabbed a piece of chicken, and everyone asked me about the fourth quarter. I could not tell them anything except how much the Bears sucked. I stumbled into the back seat and tried to pass out. The ceiling of the car kept spinning, and it did not help that I drank almost the whole fifth of whiskey. I think there were two shots left. I opened the door of the car and puked my guts out all over the concrete. My friends laughed at me, but that was not unusual. I normally was able to hold my liquor, but I had drunk a lot that day. I passed out, so I couldnt tell you about the rest of the trip back to the North side. Sean woke me up and told me we were at Jimmys. I looked out the window, even though my vision was still blurry, I felt a lot better than I did at the game.
Are you still going to Larrys birthday party? Sean asked me before I got out.
Yeah, I could definitely do some more drinking. I said.
Larry lived down Elston Avenue by Milwaukee Avenue. Jimmy lived near Elston and Lawrence. I dont know if you are familiar with the North side of Chicago, but that is only about a mile and a half apart from each other.
I looked around and saw that Jimmy and Karen were already gone. I asked Sean about them, and he told me, that Karen went home, and Jimmy was on his front porch.
I jumped out of the car as I said, later. I yelled at Jimmy from across the street. Jimmy pointed upstairs to his apartment as the foyer door closed behind him. I just figured he was going upstairs and that was it. So I walked over to my car, and jumped in. I put the key in the ignition and started the engine. It purred like a lion. It was a beater, but the heat worked and the engine ran, which is all that mattered to me. I let it warm up for a few minutes trying to sober up a little bit more.
I tore out of the parking spot and headed for Elston. I turned right and headed for Larrys. I knew I did not have far to go, and I had driven in worst conditions before. It was still snowing, and the ground had a light coat of fresh powder. When I got to the light at Cicero Avenue, I pulled behind a black Blazer. I used to be able to remember the license plate, but that is a distant memory. The light turned green, and I punched it. The Blazer saw I was riding his ass, and he started driving faster. We flew through the light at Foster, and the one by Forest Glen. We were both doing about forty or fifty miles an hour. The light at Lieb Avenue by The Secretary of State building was changing to red as we approached. The Blazer blew through the red light and I followed. The only reason I was following this guy was because he was driving like I wanted to drive. Elston Avenue jogs west a little right before Bryn Mawr Avenue. This became a problem fast. The Blazer went into the left turning lane for Bryn Mawr, I went to pass him in the center lane. He decided he was going to stay on Elston, and came back into my lane. I went to the lane next to the sidewalk. That lane had potholes that needed to be repaired. Like I said, my car was in bad shape already. I needed new springs and shocks in the back. My car couldnt handle the wet pavement, the high speeds, and the potholes, let alone my quick cut with the steering. The car bounced on the drivers side two wheels. It then bounced back to the passenger side. I lost all control after that. When the car leveled out, I went up on the sidewalk. I tried to stop, but I was moving too fast. The snow created a slick surface. I saw I was heading straight for a light pole. The Grateful Deads song, Hell in a Bucket was playing on my radio, and I laid down in my front seat right before the light pole tore through the drivers side of the car...
Son! Are you alright? A voice asked me from the drivers side. Son! Can you hear me?
I sat up and saw stars. I did not know what had happened. I was in shock. It took me a long time to become coherent. I sat there with my hands on the steering wheel. I looked into the gentlemans eyes and the stars were everywhere I turned my head.
Whats the problem? I asked, as I looked out the window to see flashing lights from a cop car.
You have been in an accident. The gentleman told me.
I went to reach for the door handle and tried to open the drivers side door.
That door is not going to open! He said.
I was still confused, so I tried to climb out the drivers side window. Which was weird because I didnt remember rolling the window down. I got my torso out the door window, when I realized my legs were stuck under the dashboard. I sat back down in the seat and pulled my left leg free.
Maybe, you should sit tight until the ambulance gets here. The gentleman said.
Im good. I slurred out.
The cop that had just arrived jumped out of his car and helped the other guy pull me out of the car. I stood there for a while without looking at my car. I still didnt know what had happened. I stood there as the ambulance pulled up, and I was trying to get my insurance card and license out for the officer. He didnt ask me for it, but I guess whenever I see a cop I subconsciously pull out my I.D.
Have you been drinking? The cop asked.
I dont remember. I said.
Well, can you come over to my trunk and take a Breathalyzer test? The cop asked.
I put up my middle finger and said, Blow this!!! Luckily the ambulance was already there. It must have given me the distraction I needed.
Watch your mouth! He said as he pointed at me. Are you hurt? He gritted out.
Yeah, my head and knee hurt, it is getting hard to stand and I got glass in my eyes. I replied. I was being very belligerent, even though he was just doing his job.
Alright, get in the ambulance. He said. We will finish this up at the hospital.
The paramedics helped me into the ambulance. For the first time, I looked over my shoulder at my car. It was totaled. I went past the pole about twenty feet. The outside of the door was still stuck to the light pole. It all became clear to me what had happened. I still couldnt remember anything, but I understood why the cop and the gentleman were trying to help me. The paramedic laid me down and strapped up my neck and body onto one of those body boards they use. The ambulance headed for the hospital.
Whats your name? The paramedic asked.
I rambled off my information and then I looked out the window and saw my buddy Larrys apartment as we drove by. There were shadows moving back and forth on the window shades. His party was in full effect. That is when my memory started to come back slowly. The paramedic flushed my eyes with saline solution. I had managed to fill up my eyes and mouth with glass. That was the reason for the stars. I was too incoherent to realize it at first.
So what happened? The paramedic asked.
At first I couldnt remember, but driving by Larrys apartment jogged my memory a little. I began to tell the medic about the Bears game. I told him about the whiskey and the fight.
Okay, just a tip, what you just told me, dont tell that to the police. He chuckled out.
It made sense, and the severity of the situation became clear. We arrived at Lutheran General Hospital in Park Ridge. They unloaded me onto a bed and wheeled me into the E.R. I had head injuries, so they began to remove my clothes. I had so many layers on, that they began cutting my shirts off. They pulled off my pants and sweats, which is when I realized I had that quarter ounce of weed in my crotch. I grabbed that with a quick hand. I didnt need any more trouble. I was butt naked under a sheet in the emergency room holding onto a quarter ounce of shake in my left hand. The doctors were doing so many things to me, that I had switch the bag from hand to hand numerous times throughout the night. The chaplain came in and asked me if I wanted anybody contacted. I told them to call my mom and my dad. They obliged without hesitation.
The cop showed up and asked me to sign a release form that would give them permission to administer a piss test for a toxicology report. I refused. I went for a cat scan, and then the fireworks started. The interns wheeled me back to the E.R. I kept passing in and out of consciousness.
My father and my step-mom were the first to arrive. The cop filled them in on the details.
How you doing? My dad asked me.
Not good. I answered.
My dad went back to talk to the cop, and told him I had just got hurt at work a few months ago. He explained to him all my hardships, and I dont know if that is why the cop offered to not write me an open alcohol ticket. You see, I grabbed the almost empty bottle of Jack Daniels from Seans car before he left. The bottle was lying on the floor boards of my 79 Ford Granada. The cop asked my parents to go and get the bottle and then he wouldn't be able to write me the open alcohol ticket. My parents started asking questions about the consequences for me if they didnt. Such as, Well, will he lose his license? What else will happen to him? The cop told them that I would probably lose my license for good, if he wrote me an open alcohol ticket. He was already given me a driving under the influence ticket. This would just give the courts more ammunition. I still dont understand why the cop was being so cool, since I was being such an asshole.
Finally, I got tired of hearing my parents contemplate going to get the bottle. In my mind it was not that hard of a decision. I called the doctor over to my bed.
I am 18 years old. I have full control over what happens to me here, right? I asked.
Yes. He answered.
Do me a favor, kick my parents out of here. I said.
The doctor asked my parents to leave. My dad told me not to worry about anything, but I could tell he was pissed. They were supposed to be at some Christmas party. My Step-Mom hated my antics. She couldn't discipline me because I was a teenager when she married him. But I wasnt worried about anything but the weed I had been squeezing in my palm for the last two hours. Finally, my mom showed up. The cop asked her if she would go retrieve the bottle of whiskey from my car. She left without hesitation. The cop finished up his paperwork, and just before he left he turned to me and asked, Oh were you wearing your seatbelt?
Yeah. I was lying through my teeth. I just didnt need anymore tickets.
Thats good, you probably would not have lived through the accident, otherwise. The doctor chimed in.
I just smiled and watched the cop turn and leave. I knew that I would be dead if I was wearing my seatbelt. The pole came through the drivers side. I would not have been able to lie down before impact. That would have killed me.
Does this hurt? The doctor asked as he pushed a finger into my shoulder.
I winced in pain, and yelled out, yeah.
I looked over your cat scan and saw that you fractured your clavicle bone. The doctor replied.
Hey doc, I got a headache, can you give something? I asked.
He had the nurse administer some regular Tylenol. They could not give me anything else because I came in drunk. I had to take a piss for a long time, before I couldnt hold it any longer. The nurses wanted me to piss for them, but I was afraid too, because of the cop. Finally, I couldnt take it any longer. I asked for a box of tissue, and stuffed my sack of weed under the tissue, so I could quit holding it. After five hours in the emergency room, they finally sent me to a room upstairs. They wouldnt release me because I came in with head injuries, and they were afraid I might have hit my chest on the steering wheel. This could cause a heart murmur or something like that. I didnt care I was worn out. My mom had returned and went upstairs with me. I had a sling on one arm, and an I.V. in the other. My eyes were blood red because I popped some blood vessels. I sent my mom down to the security office to retrieve the clothes the doctors and nurses didnt wreck.
I stuffed the tissue box holding my weed into a drawer, and then I relaxed on the bed. It had been a long day, and I just wanted to chill out. My mom returned to the room with my box of clothes. I got up off the bed and walked over to the box. I had to wheel around my I.V. I reached down into the box and pulled out my flannel. I opened up one of the pockets, and I realized that the cop never searched my stuff. My brass pipe was in there. I was so happy, because I didnt need another charge of marijuana possession on top of my D.U.I. My mom stayed for a little while, but it got late and visiting hours were over. I asked the nurse to give me something for my headache. She gave me more Tylenol. I fell asleep for about two hours.
When I woke up again, the headache was worse. I couldnt sleep on my side or my stomach because of the I.V. and the sling. I rang the buzzer and asked for more aspirin. The nurse gave me two more, and again I fell asleep for a few hours. I awoke again around 4 A.M. This time I asked for more aspirin, and they called the doctor. He told them to not administer anymore. The nurse came in and told me I would just have to deal with the headache. I was pissed.
I waited for about a half hour trying to fall back asleep. The headache was bad, not to mention, the alcohol effects were gone, so my body was feeling sore all over. I stood up, grabbed the I.V. pole, my weed, my bowl, and headed for the bathroom. Luckily, I was in a room by myself. I went into the little bathroom, hung the I.V. bag on the hook on the wall, and sat on the toilet. I packed myself a nice little bowl, and smoked myself silly. I was paranoid about the smell, but I didnt care, the headache was killing me.
I went back to bed and fell asleep till morning. I still find it funny that Mother Nature cured me better than modern science. I made a vow after that to never go a day without smoking weed. That lasted for many years but finally ended a while back. Anyway, the phone rang in the morning. My dad was on the other end, telling me I was moving out of his house and into my Uncle/Grandfathers house, so I could be closer to work. I knew the real reason was they just couldnt deal with me anymore. I was 18, and my dad is a straight shooter, so if I want to act like I was then it wouldnt be under his roof. I was pissed for years about that, but it was the best decision anyone could have made for me.
My aunt and her boyfriend came and picked me up. We drove from the hospital to my car without stopping. My aunt brought a camera, and took pictures of every angle of the car. When I got to my car, everything was gone. My so-called friends from the neighborhood, who saw my car smashed on the sidewalk, figured I was dead. So, they looted it, and took anything of value. I tried to start the car but it wouldnt turn over. It wasnt until later that I realized it was still in drive. I wish I had realized that then. I would have loved to hear it start up once more. It wasnt drivable but I loved that car. It was my first one, and I paid $300 bucks for it. It lasted me over two years. It was well worth it. I saw that I broke the frame of the car above the drivers side door. Since I was sober, I realized that I was lucky to be alive.
It didnt stop me from drinking, or smoking, but I realized that I must have a purpose here. I would like to think that my purpose is to tell my stories, but if it is something else then so be it.
I found out later, that Jimmy was pointing for me to hold on. He knew I was too drunk to drive, and he was going to drive my car to Larrys. The bottle of Jack Daniels showed up on my Grandmothers shelf. I polished off the last two shots on Christmas the following year. I kept the bottle as a memoir, but it has long since disappeared. I won the D.U.I. case after six months. The States Attorney tried to subpoena my blood/toxicology reports from the hospital without my lawyers consent, or the judges for that matter. It was dismissed on a technicality, but that is why I am proud of the rights I have because I am an American.
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