Wednesday, September 16, 2009

How many fingers?

Let me confess. I'm not proud of the fact that I've driven while under the influence but I did. It was a very long time ago when I was young and feeling invincible. WRONG. But I was lucky and nothing bad happened. Lucky. Now me, or my beloved, would not think of slipping behind the wheel while impaired; most of our friends, same thing. Good for us but what about other people? This young Dr., with a promising career, kills a young girl with an equally promising career; what a waste. Drunk Dr. kills young ballerina.

This is all relevant after being at the Greek Theater to a concert last week. Great to see Dave Matthews Band again thanks to my generous darling daughter. Now, I have no problem with people having fun and if that includes drinking or getting high, don't care. You don't bother me and listening to DMB in concert includes whatever you imbibe, I'm OK with that. But what would possess you to get behind the wheel of your car and drive away?

Anyone who's attended the Greek knows the "stacked" parking sucks, but they eventually do get you out. So while waiting for cars to move in the gridlock that is so, Greek, we saw a number of people having no business getting behind the wheel of their cars. It would be safe to say if you can't maneuver over a small two-and-half-foot picket fence; give up the keys to someone who can. If you have to shake your head to focus; get in the damn backseat and sleep it off. If your friend says, how many fingers and you think he's an alien with more than five; dude, you're drunk.

If LA were smart, they'd have a cattle pen with cots and coffee and offer that to concert goers. Five buck, sleep it off and avoid a ticket or the horror of a lifetime of guilt for killing another DMB fan. The exit should be a two-and-half-foot picket fence. Can't get over? More coffee.

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