"WHAT HARM CAN COME FROM A FEW
GLASSES OF WINE?"

Aide Magazine, October l993

To many of us, four glasses of wine over four hours doesn't seem like enough to do damage. But this first-person account from a USAA member, a respected surgeon, may make you think twice. He volunteered to share this story, thinking others might learn from it. We have withheld his name to protect his privacy.

We were driving in the slow lane of the freeway, following traffic that Friday evening when the big red light appeared in the rearview mirror. I wondered what would possibly prompt the police to stop us -- perhaps a taillight was out.

"You have inadequate rear vision," said the police officer, shining the flashlight through my rolled-down window and pointing to the pile of wedding presents, suitcases and baby equipment that filled the back of our jeep. He looked at me, my wife, our daughter, my son-in-law and our baby.

I started to explain, but he interrupted. "Have you had anything to drink tonight?"

"I had about four glasses of wine at the rehearsal dinner for my son's wedding."

"Please get out of the car," he said. He led me to the side of the freeway where he and his partner administered a field sobriety test, which I passed.

"Now I want you to flow into this Breathalyzer, sir," he said.

"You don't have to, but if you don't, we will assume you're under the influence."

I complied, confident that I had not been impaired by a few glasses of wine over four hours. But as the cars rushed by and I saw my family worriedly watching me, suddenly I was scared.

"Sir, you are just at the line -- 0.08 percent blood alcohol. I am going to arrest you for driving under the influence," said the officer.* The cold handcuffs snapped on my wrists, and one officer led me to the patrol car. When he told my family they could find me at the city jail, I saw more fear in my wife's eyes than I had seen during a Vietnam tour when she was a nurse and I was a combat surgeon.

The officers stopped at a hospital to get a more accurate breath test, and again, I registered 0.08 percent. As I walked handcuffed through the hospital's emergency room, I was eternally grateful I was not in my hometown where, as a leading surgeon, everyone would have known me. I asked the troopers why they had stopped me, and they said it was for inadequate rear vision; my car was missing an outside mirror. "But, on Friday nights we routinely ask about drinking," one added. "And if you say 'yes,' we test you."

*In most states, a driver with a blood alcohol concentration (BAC) of either 0.08 or 0.l0 percent is legally guilty of driving while intoxicated. The Surgeon General has recommended that level be reduced to 0.04 by the year 2000 for drivers over 2l years of age and 0.00 for drivers under 2l.

Six hours in jail

At the city jail, the police passed me over to the sheriff's deputy. I was booked, fingerprinted, photographed and relieved of my shoes, watch, wallet, belt, wedding ring and coins. The deputy walked me to a room with a steel door in which there was a l2-inch window. "This is where you'll spend the next six hours. After that, you are free to leave," he said.

The room smelled of urine, vomit, sweat and disinfectant. There were three other men in the l2-by l6-foot windowless concrete space: two college-age kids sitting on the gray floor and an older man stretched out on the single stadium-style wall bench. In the corner was a stainless steel commode with a drinking fountain built into the lid. A black pay telephone sat above it on the wall. I tried to call my wife, but the phone was broken.

"What'd they get you for?" the older man called out. I described the circumstances and he chuckled. "I was riding my bike on the sidewalk downtown," he said, closing his eyes and holding his arms out as if he were riding nohanded.

After 2 a.m. the bars closed, and the steel jail door opened and slammed shut with greater frequency. Over 25 men of all ages, socio-economic groups and ethnicities crowded into the cell. Some were pacing, some sick, some shouting, others sleeping on the sticky floor. Most had stories to tell about how they got there. I listened to them all.

Very few were "bad guys," and nearly to a man, they already regretted what they had done and what lay ahead. At 5 a.m. my name was called on the intercom. I stood up, disheveled and dirty, and was led to the dismissal area.

"You report back here for court at 8 a.m. in two weeks," said a deputy. I walked out into the crisp morning air, passing through deserted streets back to our motel. When I got there, my family looked worse than I did. I felt awful about what I had put them through.

Six hours later, I drank diet cola at the wedding and watched many other guests have too many margaritas in the afternoon sunshine. I wondered who was driving them home.

Standing before the judge

Two weeks later I stood before the judge in a court of flags, secretaries, sheriffs and some of the same men who had been in my cell. The case preceding mine concerned a repeat offender, and the judge sentenced him to a multi-thousand-dollar fine, one year loss-of-license, six days in jail and an alcohol treatment program.

I simply told my story; the sheriff corroborated it. The secretary stated I had never had a similar violation or a major accident in 40 years of driving. The judge was surprised I didn't have a lawyer, but I had served on juries in which the testing method and equipment were challenged, and it didn't seem very sensible. I just wanted to get it over with.

Thankfully, I was given a misdemeanor, "reckless driving," and in addition to a fine and four-month driver's license suspension, I was assigned to "work-fare" for three days.

My work-fare consisted of working as a city janitor. I cleaned bathrooms, mopped floors and carried out trash in the city buildings for those three days.

"Are you the new custodian?" a woman looked up and asked as I quietly replaced the wastebasket beneath her desk.

Bill, the head janitor, who was in the doorway, answered "No, he's just temporary."

"Oh," she said, "he's good, Billy. You should see that he stays." It made my day. I enjoyed work-fare and gained some insight into the cramped and difficult conditions under which county social workers perform their duties.

It also gave me time to reflect. As a surgeon who routinely cares for highway accident victims in the Emergency Room, I had seen the carnage of a drunk driver.

I recalled college days when I am sure I drove while impaired, but honestly I had not done it since. However, after being stopped, I studied the blood alcohol tables, and I realized that tired from work and the new baby, and having very little to eat at the rehearsal dinner, it was a cinch to be 0.08 percent, and thus legally impaired -- which is the level where a driver's reflexes are slow and judgment is imperfect.

Driver's license suspended

The work-fare is over now. And as I write this, I am halfway through the four-month driver's license suspension. My wife drives me everywhere. That means taking the baby too. I haven't advertised what is going on; indeed it is something that in a small town can destroy a professional. I know when my suspension is over, it will cost me $l00 to re-take my drivers test, and my auto insurance will triple in cost and remain at that level for three years.

I know if I am stopped again within the next seven years with even a trace of alcohol on board, I will be dealt with as a repeat offender.

I have learned a valuable lesson the hard way. But perhaps I saved my family's life and that of someone else. Maybe people reading this will stop and think. The ads all say, "Friends don't let friends drive drunk." I agree; but even friends and family don't realize how easily 0.08 percent comes and how normal you look at that level. While the blood alcohol tables, weight scales, food intake and age can determine how impaired you are, that's too complicated. It's much easier to simply say, "If you drink don't drive."

Take it from me -- the shame, the cost, the inconvenience and the potential to hurt loved ones is too great. A drink, even one, isn't worth it. Stop and think about this the next time you start your car. If you had anything to drink, you should not drive. Trust me. You won't like it when the red light appears in your rearview mirror.