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Designated Driver

Back in high school and in my early college years, I had a group of friends I hung around. There was a core group of 6 guys with a few more sprinkled in or out depending on the adventure. I was the designated driver.

I grew up around alcohol. I am Catholic. Church picnics, school sporting events, mixers, weddings, holidays all had alcohol. It was used for celebration, socializing and sometimes to drown sorrows. I saw alcohol consumption result in fights (because of overconfidence), relationship breakups, and addiction. I chose not to partake.

In the 80s it was illegal to drink under the age of 21 but rarely was it ever enforced. My buddies had access to beer and even stronger liquor, and getting into bars with a fake ID was super easy. The bars had the alcohol and the ladies so most Friday and Saturday nights that is where my crew was.

As the designated driver, the local spots knew me. I got free drinks! I often chose juices (orange/pineapple was my favorite), and sometimes soda. I also was the one going to the bar to get the drinks for my pals. If they shuffled up there and got me a “free” drink, they were asked to pay for it or would try to slip alcohol into my drink. I liked the control.

One bonus of getting the drinks for my pals (they always paid for them) was I could sip each one that interested me. Some tasted okay, others were plain nasty. I tried beer a handful of times, and it never tasted good.

One Saturday night we headed to Baxter Jacks. A local bar frequented by 18–25-year-olds. We arrived around 10:30pm, walked in like the guys from the movie SWINGERS, headed to the deck outside in the back and grabbed our places. We scanned the place for potential friends and ladies.

The seating on the wooden deck was small, and tonight my buddy Dave got squeezed in the back. He could get out, but it involved 3 people getting up and moving chairs, so he stayed put. Dave ordered Long Island Ice Teas. I walked to the bar and got his 1st one. I sipped it. Yuck battery acid. I quickly grabbed my pineapple juice to wash away the taste. As a group we talked, checked out the ladies, had people come up and chat with us, then leave, and hung out. Some guys would leave, strike out with a lady and come back with their head hung low. Greeted with laughter from the rest of us.

Dave ordered a second Long Island Ice Tea, then another, then another. I got them all and brought them back to him. Over the course of an hour we all hung out, talked to other guys,, and I ordered a burger and ate it. Dave said out loud “alright move, everyone up I gotta piss”. Dave stood up.

It was dark out; the temp was in the low 80s in July, and the proximity of the crowd made it a very warm night. All of us, including Dave, needed to stay refreshed. I choose juice and then water. Chris, Andy, Tim, Homer, Tink, and Scott chose beer, Dave chose Long Island Ice Tea. Dave stood up after consuming 4 or 5 of them.

As he got to his feet, his stance wobbled, his eyes were glazing, and he muttered two words. “Oh sh*t!” Instantly the alcohol hit him. He stumbled and fell over. I, being sober, placed a hand on his chest to steady him while everyone else laughed. Dave shook his head as to clear out the cobwebs, steadied himself and made his way to the restroom. He didn’t walk in a straight line. He returned soon, still not walking straight, and plopped down in his chair.

As the hours went by, the crowd thinned out and as was customary; I made the call before it was time to go. As holder of the car keys, I had the power to decide when the night was done. The group knew that. The rule was when I was ready to go, join me, or find a ride home. 90% of the time, all that arrived together, left together. That rule was my payment for being the designated driver. I had no patience for chasing people around and “hang on just a minute”. The pact worked out for all of us.

Everyone headed to the bar to settle up, and we walked back through the bar and out to the van. I unlocked it, climbed in, Chris was my co-pilot (he always was, being the oldest), and then the sliding door opened. Stumbling in the choice of back or middle bench was sometimes debated, but mostly butts plopped into seats.

The trips home were always interesting. Discussions on “can we stop and grab food” or “man did you see that one girl she was hot, I should have talked to her” and even reality statements like “man I am so drunk”. Back then, our food choices were Taco Bell or White Castle. Many places that are now open late we’re not back then. Ordering for 6 guys at White Castle at 3am, well that is another story for another time.

They got home safe; I got free drinks and sometimes free food. No-one got hurt. Times differed from today.

Until next time,

Tim (Kilmer)

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