by Covert » Sat Jan 08, 2011 1:45 pm
I told this story on WLDG several years ago when it happened. I had attended the weekend wedding bash of the sister of the lady who now runs Saratoga Springs’ The Wine Bar on Broadway. My good friend, her father, designed The Wine Bar after his notion of the perfect restaurant and opened the place a few days after the wedding. Drinking for the entire weekend, which ended at about 2:00 a.m. Sunday morning, the idea occurred to the bartender and was quickly seconded by me, and a couple of couples connected with the family, to “open” and christen The Wine Bar that morning on its front steps. The bartender brought out a few bottles of Champagne and wine and commenced a party.
Not long into it, eyes appeared out of the night, like jackals around a carcass, Saratoga’s homeless contingent. All of us decided it would be a great idea to share, so we passed out stems and poured heartily. The hobos were grateful and very well behaved; and the event remains warm in my heart.
We had one hell of a scare, though, going home. Around four, when I could see the glow of the new day between the buildings, I figured enough was enough. Lynn was more affected than I was and I remember pulling her up like a dog on a leash to prevent her from squatting a pee in the street as we crossed looking for the car. Not sure what number I would have posted on a breathalyzer, but it would have been formidable.
The drive south on Route Nine past the Saratoga baths and Gideon Putnam Resort was serene enough, until I crested the rise just before the Northway entrance. Blazing stadium lights lined both sides of the road, and next to a breathalyzer van a queue of paddy wagons waited for the next trip to jail, like cabs at LaGuardia, and there were more cops everywhere than I thought existed in the county. Coned runways had been set up so that suspected inebriates could have their own little staging areas to converse with their own cops.
I screamed, “F---!, were f---ed!” which managed to wake Lynn who had passed out the second she hit the passenger seat. Lynn calmly instructed, “Just handle it!” “Handle it?” I protested, “Handle it? - I'm drunk!” A cop motioned me into my little lane, walked alongside the car and gestured for me to roll down my window.
Driving Lynn’s car, I was not automatic with the window buttons, so a back window on the opposite side went down first, then Lynn’s window, and finally mine, as the cop waited akimbo.
“Where are you coming from?” “Canfield Casino, we were at a wedding.” “Did you have anything to drink?”
My brother, who is a trial attorney, had insisted if I ever got in that position to say no, no matter how obvious the contrary might be, because as soon as you admit it they can put you through the tests. Nevertheless, I said “Yes, but it’s funny you ask because I didn’t drink anything all night, knowing I had to drive, until the very end when I couldn’t stand it anymore being the only teetotaler and I drank three whiskeys.” I knew he would be able to smell alcohol, even though I had aired the car out pretty good with the window display, and that would have been enough cause to take it further.
“Do you know your alphabet?” I remembered a cognitive test I had taken once where I had to recite it backwards and started to practice in my head – Z-Y-X… and asked, “Do you mean forward?” “Yes, let's hear it.” So I started and thought not to sing L-M-N-O-P, and then I was silent, not really knowing if I had finished to Z or stopped after P. My heart was pounding. I guess the fact that I look up words all the time helps me know the alphabet even if I don’t know my name. “Go ahead,” he said.
In about fifty yards, I don’t know who whooped the first word, but we shouted in ecstatic unison, “IF NOT US, -- WHOOO!!!?” Everybody was a bum that night.
