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I know this is the next entry above a "conversation at-a-bar" post, which makes what I’m gonna say even more important:
So there you are: your friends & family are all boozin’ it up at Thanksgiving dinner and then driving home. And in December, you'll see all these important people at the office Christmas party and they’re all drinking a lot and then drivin’ home. And since you see your friends and family and co-workers all drinking and then going home in their cars, you figure “I can too”.
My friends, this is just the beginning of how alcohol can affect your driving. It doesn’t just include the obvious vision and reaction time; it impairs your mental judgment as well. The fact is that alcohol quickly disrupts your normal thinking patterns and you’re suddenly not in the condition to recognize and adjust for it. Therefore, you can make these critical errors in judgment. And we’re all celebratin’ this time of year. And this is the problem.
Scientists have discovered that alcohol in the brain causes the mind to magnify certain things and minimize other things, so essential facts become distorted. For example, you can talk yourself into thinking that you are an exception to the rule since “I can hold my liquor, so it is ok to drive.” Or you might convince yourself that it’s ok to drive since the streets are mostly empty anyhow and you won’t run into much traffic. This is what is called impaired thinking and can also be an example of denial. And denial – which prevents you from taking corrective action of any impaired decision - can be the greatest impairment of all.
Sadly, most drivers are unaware of how alcohol impairs their driving. Many think that in order for driving to be seriously affected, you need to see double or be unable to walk a straight-line. Nope. The fact that you’re actually unaware of the affect of the alcohol on your vision makes it especially dangerous to rely on your judgment at that moment whether you can drive or not. Besides your vision, alcohol in the blood and brain influences you motor reactions. You do not have to feel drunk. In fact you can feel quite awake and energetic. Yet, your reaction time has slowed down. If ordinarily you need a quarter of a second to hit the brake, with alcohol in your bloodstream, you might need a full second or possible two seconds. But you don’t give yourself two seconds so you crash into the car ahead of you.
All of these factors combine to increase the probability of a fatal accident due to the consumption of alcohol and driving under its influence. Especially this time of year. And since I’m on the roads for a living, I am askin’ you to take a risk assessment of your plans and situations and make intelligent choices and appropriate actions to save your life, the lives of your loved ones, and my life as well. Take responsibility for your decisions and make the right choices about your drivin’ during the holidays, don’t become a statistic and a memorial service.
I couldn’t tell if this fella was drunk or not. He was damn clear about him not tellin’ me his name, that’s for sure.
“Shhhh…” he kept sayin’ to me, with his finger pressed hard against his face from nose tip to the bottom of his chin.
Apparently, the City boys hired this guy way back when to run some kind of a pretreatment wastewater program.
“I was in charge of all the doings and regulations for the industrial-plant wastewater discharge in town,” he said between swallows of beer.
“Really…” I replied, before trying again with, “…uhm, I didn’t catch your name there pal…”
“Shhhh” he interrupted again.
So my nameless friend’s job was to make sure that the water being “discharged” from Boise was not toxic and dangerous before it made its way into the river. And come to find out that y’alls’ main drinking water intake is located in Columbia City, just downstream from all this discharge. Knowing all of this, my new friend wanted to do his job as best he could, but something happened along the way.
”Damn right something happened along the way,” he said staring at me angrily. “They told me to break the law, that’s what happened along the way, they wanted me to use fake water-samples and then cover-up the real data in my records.”
Suddenly, I was gulpin’ my beer between his sentences as he went on.
”I wanted no part of it, I just wanted to do my job, and they punished me for trying to do my goddamn job,” he said while lookin’ at me for any kind of sign of empathy. “Hell they wanted me to go to counseling, the bastards. Like I was crazy or something!” I thought I detected a slur but he continued right back on point. “They gave me the worst job performance reviews they could, makin’ up this supposed bad stuff I did.”
And eventually they suspended him without pay. And this week, they beat him in Circuit Court.
“That’s some tough shit there Sam…or what was it again…?”
“Shhhh” he repeated, lookin’ around in every direction from his barstool. “Best you weren’t even talking to me pal; these guys have threatened to get me, ya know?”
“Sounds like the City-boys sure didn’t want you around if you weren’t gonna play ball,” I told him.
“Let me tell you somethin’ pal,” he began with this fierce look in his eyes. “Ya better not have that glass of water with your dinner here in town. And, oh yeah: better get yourself one of them expensive water filters too.”
“That’s some real bullshit there…er, John was it?”
“Shhhh…”
And I thought I had it bad with the Longview loadin’-dock foreman.
-Tom
I was pokin' around Pufferbelly Toys the other day, lookin' for some Christmas presents for the grandkids. That's when Stephanie, the owner, told me about "the call" she got a few months back: A cryptic phone call from the U.S. Department of Homeland Security. She thought it was a prank at first because she couldn't believe Homeland Security would need to investigate a small toy store in St. Helens. But it was real, and the Homeland Security people proceeded to scare her half to death. They refused to tell her what they wanted to see her about. "We're not at liberty to discuss this matter over the telephone," they told her. They agreed to meet in early August. A few days later, the agent canceled and Stephanie thought the matter had blown over. However, in September, the agent called back again to tell her they would be coming the next day. They arrived at her store in two separate cars and flashed her their badges. The agents then asked her to lock the door to make sure that the "building was secure." The whole thing took about 10 minutes. They had come for a dangerous terroist toy called the Magic Cube. It was an illegal copy of the Rubik's Cube, one of the most identifiable toys of all time. He told her to remove all of the Magic Cube from her shelves, and he watched to make sure she complied. "I was shaking in my shoes," she told me. As they were leaving, she asked them why not just contact the factory who makes the Magic Cube? They gave her some strange excuse about "Auburn, Washington being out of their local office's area of responsibility", hopped in their cars and sped away. After the agents left, Stephanie called the manufacturer of the Magic Cube, the Toysmith Group, which is based in Auburn, Washington. A Toysmith representative told her that the Homeland Security agents were wrong: The Rubik's Cube patent had expired, and the Magic Cube did not infringe on rival toy's trademark. John Ryan, corporate counsel for the Toysmith Group, said Homeland Security, which includes US Customs, routinely blocks shipments of products from overseas that violate intellectual property rights, such as patents, copyrights and trademarks. "That's fine. That's not an outrageous federal act by any means," Ryan said. "But we certainly were surprised that a federal agent approached a toy store owner and frightened them." After gaining assurances from Toysmith officials, Stephanie put the Magic Cube back on the shelf soon after the agents left. I picked a couple up for the grandkids before leaving. "I guess there aren't enough terrorists out there," she sighed. "I guess not," I told her. Four more years people.
Tom
Five people messin' with me this week:
The loading dock foreman in Longview
George W. Bush
4:45am Garbage man
Safeway clerk in St Helens
The Baptist minister down the street
Five cats who always messed with me:
Blackie (1977) - Clawed maniacally at my calves as I slept uneasily
Sushi (1992) - Calm demeanor belied hateful, blood-filled glances
Unnamed neighborhood cat (1979) - Hissed menacingly from the front yard
Sapphire (1998) - Mephistophelean Siamese with transparently homicidal designs
Chuck (1991) - Repeatedly shat on my pillow
Five companies who have me by the balls:
Gillette
Microsoft
T-Mobile
Costco
Fred Meyer
Five things I wished truckstop drugdealers sold instead of meth:
balsa wood toy airplanes
breath mints
flowers
novelty gifts, magic tricks, and small puzzles
books on tape
Five things that need to be messed with in St Helens:
hospital
amphitheater
City Hall
library
parks
