Sun 11-8-15
I learned about two coworkers’ charges for drunk driving. As is typical, both have a flippant, “welcome to the club” attitude about it.
One is a man in his late twenties; the other is in his early fifties. The younger one was going down 35W in Minneapolis in the wrong direction when he was pulled over. This newsworthy detail and his blood alcohol level resulted in felony charges. Neither are adolescents, both should know better. And even if they didn’t know better, they should have taken on some level of shame and seriousness after going through the court process.
One thing that annoyed me was not just the flippancy, but the fact that the older coworker had expressed interest in my biking to work. He often came over to chat about it and said he was going to bike in from his White Bear Lake home someday. The dissonant thing is this: when I’m on my bike I feel a gnawing fear of drunk and distracted drivers, to the point where I don’t enjoy the ride unless I’m on a protected trail and separated from traffic. I feel that any of the dozens of cars roaring toward me from behind could be drifting into my lane, about to kill me.
And then there was this: the older coworker had to go to Minneapolis for a court appearance, and he loudly joked about how he was afraid of getting robbed or shot there! To me this was galling. I don’t wish to betray my prejudices by ascribing it to a defective suburban mentality. I think the statistics bear out my attitude here: in Minnesota 88 people were killed in drunken driving incidents last year. Eighty-two were murdered. And of those murders, the conventional wisdom is that only a minority are random crimes. I grew up in Minneapolis and was never robbed or assaulted. I have however had a lot of close calls with drivers who should have been obeying the speed limit and paying attention to the road. For all I know some of them may have been drinking with impunity.
In other words I believe have more to fear from my smiling drunk driving coworkers, who I must work with every day, than from my fellow city dwellers.
pseudoisaac 