A few years ago, back when I still had a car, I used to often go and drive into the middle of nowhere, either with someone or just on my own, and drink heavily. It's amazing I never got arrested, really. The rozzers really missed a trick there. They did come close though - the time I got breathalysed outside Hugo's was pure luck I'd only had one snakebite...But the copper let me keep the little plastic blow tube as a souvenir. So overall a plus. I often slept in my car as well, if I was too drunk, even by my own standards, to drive. One of these nights, I left the pub, and decided to pick up a cheeseburger, and go and stuff my intoxicated face full of beef in the comfort of my car, followed by a long sleep. But alcohol has a funny way of ruining all your best laid plans. On the way back to the car, I walked past half a dozen homeless teens busking on the street. Did I ignore them? No. Did I give them some change? Hell no.
I decided the only sensible thing to do would be to give them my burger and fries to share between them, whilst I maintained their busking attempts by (maybe a little too) enthusiastically singing Twenty Flight Rock to the drunks coming out of the pubs and clubs. It was cold, but hell, I'll admit, it was a little fun.
They finally decided to call it a night, and I decided that although the car would be the warm(ish) and safe and, for all intents and purposes, only sane option, I was far better off going with them to share a two man tent set up in one corner of the Mill Pond. I spent three hours rolling them each a cigarette out of guilt every time I wanted one, and sharing beers. Eventually it occurred to me that I would have to leave at some point, and give a sound excuse why. So I told them I was going to find beer, but wandered off to find my car instead. It was fucking freezing. I didn't get kidnapped or anything, if you guys are reading this.
But that's a digression really. The snow recently reminded me of a story from a couple of years ago, on a night when it had been snowing, and I was driving back to Haverhill from Cambridge, not entirely soberly. My windscreen wash was completely empty, and my windscreen was smeared left to right with shite off the roads. I couldn't see a thing. So I pulled over, and searched my car for any kind of liquid to wash it with. Turned out the only liquid substance I had was red wine. I hate to waste alcohol, but in this situation I feel it was justified. So I washed the windscreen down with the wine.
Worked quite well.
Smelt a bit strong, but worked just fine. So I drove home, passed out, and promptly forgot about it. The next day, I'm driving around Haverhill, and get pulled by the coppers.
*tap tap*
"Morning Sir, do you know why I've pulled you over?"
"...No?"
"Alright - have you been involved in an accident in the past 24 hours?"
"What? No!"
"Okay Sir, would you step out of the vehicle please?"
"Okay..."
"Just come round the front here, Sir."
I walk round to the front of the car. There's still snow all over the front of it from the cold spell.
But this isn't lovely virgin white snow. Or even grey slushy road snow. No. This snow is bright fucking
blood red snow.
"Would you care to explain what's happened here then, Sir?"
"..."
Fragments from the night before begin piecing them together in my memory.
"Oh...right, yeah, that'd be red wine."
"...Red wine?"
"Yeah, I had nothing to clean my windscreen with, so I cleaned it with red wine."
I scoop some of it up in my hand, and sniff it, partly for show, partly to set my own mind at rest
that I didn't kill a deer or a child or something.
"See? Smell it, it's wine."
The younger copper looks at his older copper mate, who shrugs. The young copper takes a whiff, and
turns back to his mate.
"You know what John? ...That IS red wine."
John doesn't look impressed. I bet John's washed his car with alcohol a whole bunch of times.
They advise me to wash it off in the very near future, and never to do it ever again. On punishment
of John's old balls being rubbed around my face.
I always thought it was a bit strange that they didn't breathalyse me.
I mean...Seems like a bit of a no-brainer.
The only other time I had a problem with alcohol and police in Haverhill was when I was unwittingly walking through a NO ALCOHOL zone in the middle of the day, still drunk from the night before, finishing a can of beer. Luckily for me, I'm quite witty. So a panda car pulls up next to me, and the bloke shouts (quite aggressively, I might add)
"Excuse me, mate, you can't have that drink with you, this is an alcoholic prohibited area."
"Hey - I don't come to you with my problems."
They didn't like my wit, my beer ended up in the drain.
Thank you, good night.
