The heartbreak of a DUI

I mentioned in an earlier post that I managed to add a DUI to my list of proud life accomplishments. After my husband told me he wanted a separation, I was a basket case. I was driving around the neighborhood at 7:00am looking at town homes and apartment complexes, working myself into a blubbering mess.

I decided that a few beers would make the pain go away and purchased a six pack from a grocery store. I was down to beer number 5 when I was pulled over for stopping in the middle of the street, trying to figure out where I was. So, long story short . . .the officer immediately smelled the beer. I fessed up, told him what was going on and broke down in his arms. He felt bad for me (thank god!) . . .so much so that he just tossed the pipe and bud of pot he found in my console.

Anyway, a word of advice . . . .don't get a DUI in Fairfax County in northern Virginia. It is an immediate suspension of your license for an entire year, mandatory group therapy twice a week for 4 months, weekly alcohol education classes given by the county for 2 months and thousands of dollars for fines and lawyers fees.

I'm about half way through the ordeal. Not all of it has been bad. I actually really like and respect the group therapist . . .I may continue to see him after I've completed the mandated number of sessions. But, there is no greater pain than the government run alcohol education classes. A stereotypical example of a bureaucratic debacle. Weekly we show up and watch boring videos in a nondescript room with cheap chairs.

I snapped this photo with my iPhone last week. I think the picture says it all.