THE DUI DIARY: Chapter Six

Fuck. That’s all I can say right now. Give me a minute.



OK. Court went pretty badly today. I lost. My suspension has been reinforced, and it looks like I won’t be able to drive again until, at the very earliest, July 27th. Let me tell you what happened.


I showed up for court at the usual time, again accompanied by my grandfather (who needs to drive me, as my license is still suspended), where I settled into a seat and started to read. This time, it was THE STORE by Bentley Little, which is a very fucked up, very socially relevant book, highly recommended. When Steve showed up, he told me that the judge doesn’t allow reading in the courtroom, and if I wanted to read, I should wait outside. He didn’t want me to get yelled at or anything.


It wasn’t until I was outside, cracking open my book again, when it occurred to me what had just happened. I can understand them not allowing cell phones and cameras and shit like that in the courtroom, but READING?! How is that an issue? What exactly are we supposed to do while waiting for our turn to be called? Should we give the judge our undivided attention in cases where we are not concerned? This doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe if I was sentenced to court observation, I could see why they wouldn’t want me to read.


This is how I occupy my downtime in life. When I’m at work and not doing anything in particular, I read. When I’m on break, I read. When I don’t have anything going on in my life, I read. When I’m waiting for a movie to start in the theater, I read. When I’m waiting for the red light to turn green, I read. When I’m waiting to be thrashed by The System, I read. Am I the crazy one?


Regardless, I sat outside and read and waited. Around 11:30, Steve came out and said that the judge had still not made up his mind, and we needed to come back at 1:30 for his final decision. That was OK, I suppose. I had the day off from work, and I was hungry. What the hell? Why not?


Gramps and I headed over to McDonald’s and had lunch before heading back to court, where I finished THE STORE early. I had to wait a half an hour before they unlocked the door and let us in.


Thankfully, I was the first person they called. Steve wasn’t there this time, but Earl was. I stood next to him as he and the prosecutor went over a new case they’d just found that was pretty close to what I had. There was a “strong” odor of alcohol and a confession of two beers, and the officer in question didn’t think that was enough to prolong the stop.


Now, I thought this was a great legal precedent. Compared to my “faint” odor of alcohol and a confession of one beer, I thought I was in the clear. The prosecutor brought up a case he’d brought up at my last court date, and he harped on that for a while. Same shit, different day. The judge practically rolled his eyes upon hearing this bullshit.


I thought I was in the clear. I should give up hope; if you don’t have high expectations, you’re rarely let down. Jesus said that. I think. Or maybe it was in the Book of Revelation. Memory fails me at this moment.


Anyway, the judge agonized over the decision for a moment, and then he said that if it was just a matter of the “faint” odor of alcohol and the admission of one beer, he’d let it go. But the officer also mentioned “glossy” eyes (whatever that means; perhaps he meant “glassy”) in his report, and this is what the judge was really thinking about. “I think the glossy eyes was enough to put it over the top,” he said. “Barely, but just enough. I’m going to have to deny the request to rescind.”


Earl looked at me and whispered, “Were you wearing contact lenses that night? That might explain glossy eyes.”


I had to say no. I’ve worn glasses since the third grade, and I am 100% against putting anything into my eyes. My sight is very important to me, and I don’t want to risk it by inserting curved plastic sheets into my eyes.


Now, it was time to deal with the second part of the DUI case: the criminal portion. The judge told me that my next court date was the 27th of July at 8:30, a Monday. I’d have to take another day off, but that was fine. I still had plenty of days left.


Earl told me to wait outside for him. I told my grandfather this, and we both went out into the lobby to wait for my lawyer. It didn’t take long. Earl pulled me into the conference room just outside the courtroom, and he apologized for this devastating loss.


“We can do one of two things,” he said. “We can fill out the form for the BAIID and send that off. When you get your notification, you will have no choice but to pay the fee up front and have the BAIID installed within 14 days of notification. Or we can hold off on that and file a motion to reconsider.”


“Is that an appeal?” my grandfather asked.


“Not necessarily, but it’s the same idea. Now that we know that the main issue in the judge’s mind is the ‘glossy’ eyes, we can look for legal precedent and make the argument that glossy eyes is not an indication of drunkenness. I mean, I’m looking at you right now, and I can see you have glassy eyes.”


It’s true. Most of the time, I do indeed have glassy eyes. It’s usually because I’m disappointed in the way my life is going.


“If successful, we can overturn the judge’s decision today, and you’ll be able to get your driving privileges back on the 27th. If not, then we will have no choice but to go ahead with the BAIID, and then we can begin on the criminal side of your case. Do you want us to continue to fight this?”


“Absolutely,” I said. “I want to win.”


“Good. I mention this because, honestly, you don’t have anything to lose in pushing this. It’s not like they’re going to add more time to your suspension if you lose. And maybe, just maybe, if we get the suspension rescinded, we can suppress any subsequent evidence, in which case you will be able to get off scot-free.”


I smiled. “I like the sound of that.”


Earl then said that was what he was going to do, and he bid us good afternoon. My grandfather and I went out to my car, and I plugged some Bad Religion into my CD player. THE EMPIRE STRIKES FIRST, which I think is appropriate music for my current predicament. With every year that passes, the government seems to come up with more and more reasons to abridge the Fourth Amendment (among others, of course). “Safety” roadblocks are illegal, as far as I’m concerned, but somehow the fascist thugs managed to bypass the Bill of Rights, and now I’m stuck in this horrible situation.


You have no idea what it’s like to depend on my grandfather for a ride. He is 82, and he has cataracts. When he drives, I scream a lot, and I find myself grabbing the wheel often, pulling us back into the proper lane. Also, he has a very weak bladder. If he needs to piss, he will pull over anywhere, even in front of a police station, where he will just open the door and aim his pecker out into the road.

I need to be able to drive again. Fuck!

TO BE CONTINUED ON MONDAY!