Every day is a little easier than the last. This is true for
many sides of my life, but truer in parenting and sobriety. Each has their complications,
and each have unique rewards, and for either I would go to any length to keep
what I have.
Right now it is April 10th, 2019. It’s
springtime, and we are in the midst of a blizzard of immense proportions. The
girls are in their rooms; one is pouting because she was scolded for making a
mess in the other’s room. The other is squalling song of incomprehensible meaning,
although I find myself humming it and realize that she’s actually singing I'm On My Way by Phil
Collins, which I’ve also had on my mind as of late because Brother Bear has
been the movie of choice for the last week in the van, and there are some good
songs to sing along to.
The last movie in the van was Lion King 2, and it played for
about a month. I should clarify that it only plays when the girls are with
me/us, but when the movies play, we all sing along to the title tracks and
montage segues. My favorite from the Lion King 2 was He Lives in You, by..
Who knows who? Not me. Anyway, it’s pretty awful, so it’s great.
Here’s something; I didn’t catch on that I was listening to
a cartoon about jungle cats for about a week, because I can’t watch the movie
while I’m driving, the van won’t let me. So, I had developed some fairly
intricate characters in my head that were all human and was categorically shattered
when I saw that my new friends were, in fact, animals. Where am I going with
this? I have no idea.
It’s been a challenge coming up with recovery-based posts because
my sobriety life has been rather uneventful for a while. I still attend my
weekly meeting here in my hometown, and I still see my sponsor and whenever
possible, we read out of the 12X12 which is what we call the book, Twelve Steps
and Twelve Traditions. It’s a look back at the step work laid out in the
original big book. It goes into depth about the process of the steps, what
works and doesn’t, and I like the perspective of somebody with more sobriety
commenting on his earlier work. I like it, it would probably bore you.
So, here’s a story that won’t bore you.
I was travelling down highway 52 going north through
Rochester. It was just before midnight, and like always, I was concealing a
large quantity of methamphetamine. Out of nowhere, the blue and red lights of a
highway patrol car indicated that I should pull to the side of the road. I
slowly turned into the shoulder, and gradually eased up on the acceleration and
started to brake. At the same time, without moving my shoulders, I guided my
meth pipe in between the cushion and backrest to my side, and tucked my other
small bag of crystals right under my butt. The truck came to a stop, and I
switched on my hazards.
The night was quiet and I could hear the officer’s footsteps
as he approached my borrowed vehicle. I wondered if he could smell my fear, or
hear my elevated heartbeat. I had a thought that I knew I had no insurance, but
troopers rarely ask if they have something else to distract them. He paused by
the back bumper and shone his light all around and into the bed of the truck
through the glass of the topper. I put my hands on the wheel, and waited for
him to shine the condemning light into my intoxicated eyes.
When he finally came to the window he asked for my license.
I told him I would have to reach into my back pocket like I always do, and he
nodded. He then asked why I thought he pulled me over and I stated that I may
have been going too fast. He said I was going the speed limit and thanked me.
Then, my biggest fear occurred: he asked me to step out of the truck.
When you are confronted by an officer, you always comply. I’ve
learned that when you are obedient, honest, and submissive, they tend to like
you more. I said I would gladly step out, and he looked to his right to observe
traffic, stepped back, and shone his light at the ground. It was during this
precious moment that I used my fingers to grab the meth from under my butt and
throw it on the floor on the passenger side. I then opened the door, stepped
out, and looked for traffic. As I shut the door, his light found the crack and
cascaded onto my driver’s seat, finding nothing incriminating.
He asked me to step to the back of the truck, where he
showed me that all of my running lights were not working, and a wire harness
that had been dragged for about 30 miles before he stopped me. Somebody had detached
a trailer and forgotten to hook something back up, and this was how I found
out.
I couldn’t figure out how to hook it up, but as I bent over,
I felt the large bag of drugs in my inside pocket shift, and I swear he could
have heard it in the quiet of the night. I could feel a lump in my throat, and
I knew I started to sweat. I told him I was getting off at the next exit, and
he said I could go as long as I agreed to park the car there until it was
fixed, and I said I would. And he walked me back to the truck where I got in,
and grabbed the key and began to turn.
And then he said he had one more question. Had I been
drinking or using any mind-altering drugs? “Yes sir. For about 20 years.” Would
have been the honest answer. But I lied, and said I had been sober since April
15th, 2001, which was my first significant sobriety date. He didn’t
believe me and asked if I would perform a simple test called a Horizontal Gaze
Nystagmus. I shit in my pants a little then said that I would, having no idea
what that meant at the time. He took a small penlight from his shirt pocket and
asked me to look at his finger. I wanted him to look at mine, but I would save
that gesture for when he threw me in the jail cell. He moved the finger back and forth, and I
moved on it like a bitch. Although I thought I felt my eyes shuttering and
twitching, he didn’t see anything worth reporting and he told me he believed
me, and congratulated me on my sobriety.
And then it was over. My heart was racing. My palms were
sweating, and my ears were ringing. I was out on bail for a 1st-degree
narcotics charge, and I foolishly tried to catch another. It was one of four times
I was pulled over in the six months I was out on bail. Somehow, even though I
was carrying numerous felonies, I always managed to leave the scene of a crime
without the officer knowing a thing.
Every day in that life of criminality was the worst. I think
of those events often and wonder why I was so lucky. I wonder how I escaped to
continue my run into the ground. I look back and I realize that I’m no longer
that man in that truck and I no longer fear everyday life. I don’t have to hide
things from officers, and I don’t have to worry about getting pulled over. I’m
legit.
The Horizontal Gaze Nystagmus is a test that helps an officer
tell if you are intoxicated. He picked the wrong test and that was my lucky
break that night. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about these things anymore.
