I’m the worlds worst designated driver.
It all started last October when I drove to Seattle to see my University of Washington friends. We went to a house party and had a good time, but then left and decided to go to the new Ben’s Drive-In restaurant in Edmonds. Everything was going according to order. Then the song “Till I Collapse” by Eminem came on and the car erupted with excitement. Being the kind driver that I am, I turned up the volume and everyone shouted the lyrics.
All of a sudden I lost control of the car going twenty-five and the car shook and wobbled and I was on top of a parked car. My adrenaline was going crazy and I did not know what to do. I asked everyone in the car if they were okay. Everyone responded that they were fine.
No air bags went off in the accident, which is odd. We all exited the vehicle and I called my parents and the neighbors called the cops, who were there within minutes. The cops interviewed all of my drunk friends and me. Shortly thereafter they took statements, read me my rights, and told me I was being arrested for reckless endangerment. They put me in the back of the cop car.
My parents arrived when I was still in the back of the cop car and they talked to me through the window. My mom was crying and my dad had a long face. Then my parents said they would give my friends rides home and told me to call them as soon as I could.
Every minute felt like a lifetime. The cop eventually got in the car and told me I was going to jail. I was so mad. I felt that I did not deserve this. I had injured nobody.
The cop took me to the hospital even though I insisted that I was not hurt. He said it was protocol. I had to walk through Swedish Hospital in handcuffs and waste a co-pay. He then took off my handcuffs and the nurse did little tests and told the cop I was fine.
The cop put the handcuffs back on me and we walked back to the car and he got on the freeway in pursuit of Snohomish county jail. I was scared for my life.
We arrived at the jail and he took me into a room where I had to strip off all my clothes and put on a blue uniform and orange crocks in front of some lady. Then I put all my possessions in a plastic bag and counted the cash I had on me. Twelve dollars. Before I could grasp what was going on I was escorted to a jail cell with eight other men. We were packed inside a small holding cell like a sold out game at Martin stadium.
Some of the men in the cell were stinky. Some were scary looking. Some were sleeping. I sat on the cement bench and waited. I was terrified. The air conditioning was blasting on us, which was some sort of torture technique, because everyone including me was freezing.
This was a game and I tried to figure out what was going on. There was one phone in the cell but I couldn’t use it yet because I had not been processed or gotten a wristband with my number on it. I could not sleep. It was complete and utter torture.
Eventually they called my name and I went to get mug shots and fingerprints, after which they put me in a different holding cell. This is when I met a guy who was in the navy and he showed me how to use the phone. I had to have a private conversation with my parents in front of him. It was quite ironic to be telling my deepest, darkest secret on the phone while some stranger listened.
Hours later we all got word that we were going to be moved upstairs. Going upstairs is a good thing. A cop led us to an elevator and up a few floors, down a long hallway, through two securely locked doors, and into the real jail wear I was assigned a roommate, a bed, and toiletries.
I got to my room and made my bed and met my roommate: a total creep. Then I walked into the courtyard and grabbed a book and read for a little bit. The jail is two stories with cells in a big circle just like you see in the movies. There were crazy people in there yelling and people tweaking out.
Then I decided to get in line and call my parents to see if I made bail. I made it to the phone and called them and told them how scared I was. I wanted them to get me out of here. They said they went to post bail for me but the judge waved it because I have a clean record and I’m young and a good kid. But the judge wanted me to sweat it out a little bit and then I would be released.
I hung up and got mad because I really felt that I did not deserve this, but I was excited that judge waived my bail and knew I was a good person. Eventually I was released and walked out a door into some random street with a bag of my possessions. I met my parents at Starbucks.
Being in jail is one of the scariest things of all time. This is my deepest, darkest secret!