My Tolerance

I said it before a couple months back, I have zero tolerance for drunks. In the county I'm in, it doesn't take long for someone to get drunk and stupid and require emergency services.

I responded with fire a few nights ago for a vehicle into a power pole, with secondary reports of lines down and arcing. The first arriving captain gave a size up as a power pole down and blocking the roadway, one vehicle off the road. The Rescue unit I was on was directed to loop around to the backside of the scene to control traffic, and as the paramedic on the Rescue, I was told to come up and evaluate the patient.

The accident occurred on a back road, at a wye intersection and from where the Rescue parked, I had to slog through a mud patch. Approaching the older model Ford pickup, I notice that he center punched the power pole and did a significant amount of damage to the front end of his truck. The pole was down, 50 yards behind him and sheered off at ground level. Power lines were drooping just 10 feet off of the ground over our heads. The driver was still in the pickup as I approached and my captain is telling me he doesn't want to go to the hospital, but he wants me to evaluate him anyways.

No problem I'm thinking. I'll ask a few quick questions, then cancel the ambulance crew so they can get back to bed. I approach the vehicle and first I notice the strong smell of alcohol coming from the cab of the truck.

"What happened, sir?" I ask.

"I hit a power pole."

"I see that. Are you hurt?"

"No." He responds.

"Does you neck hurt?"

He shakes his head no.

"How about your back?"

Again he responds, "no."

Finally the question "how much have you had to drink tonight?"

"Nothing." Not the unexpected response given the circumstances.

"Well sir," I respond back, "I can smell the alcohol. So you've either been drinking or there is an open container in your truck. Now, I'll ask you again, how much have you had to drink tonight?"

"A couple of beers." He was still lying, but not as blatantly. It seems every drunk I've ever been on has only been "a couple of beers."

At this point, my tolerance for this particular drunk has reached zero and I ask the question, "now sir, why did you lie to me just then?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he shoots right back.

Our conversation continues and he refuses transport, but at this time the ambulance crew has arrived, so I let the paramedic have a go at convincing him to be transported. The interview continues with more questions and I ask the driver, "I see where your truck is at and where the power pole is at. How fast do you think you were going?"

Without hesitation he answers "sixty." Never mind that the speed limit on this road is 30 and that he was defiantly going much faster than 60. The truck had center punched the pole and sheered it off at the ground. The truck was going fast enough that there was no secondary impact of the pole into the cab of the truck, no other damage at all in fact.

I'm keeping an eye on the driver during this conversation and it's now that he exits his truck to take a look at the damage. He looks around at the scene and his truck and the only thing he can say is, "my truck. Look what I did to my truck."

As politely as I can, I remind the driver how lucky he is that he didn't seriously injure himself or someone else. He didn't get it though, he was focused on his jacked up truck. I got the impression from the police officers that he was a repeat offender for this sort of thing, and given his behavior, I could believe it.

We cleared the scene as the officers were giving the driver a field sobriety test, of which he could hardly even keep upright to pass. Again, I had proven to myself that my zero tolerance for drunks was well deserved.