This is the fifth part to a series of blogs that I will be posting. These are very, very personal stories. The events I share were impactful and part of my journey which formed the path to where I am today. I have kept names out to protect those involved. These are my stories from my recollection. Drug use, binge drinking, and physical abuse will be described throughout the series.
It was January 2008 and I was preparing to head back for the Spring semester at CSUN. G and I were still talking and had plans to go away over MLK Jr. weekend to celebrate his upcoming birthday. Well, I decided to go out by myself on thirsty Thursday and do a little shopping at the galleria and have dinner at this cute little Mexican cantina. Of course, I ended up at my beloved drinking establishment and I met these good-looking, slightly older police officers from LAPD; they were celebrating one of their brothers in blue's promotion to detective. I had a drink with them and they invited me to head over to another restaurant in South Pasadena. I felt comfortable accepting their invite since they were police officers and I wasn't going to be driving.
I don't remember much after the second glass of wine at that place, I mean I had already had a few between dinner and the bar before. The next thing I remembered I was waking up in my car in Clancy's parking lot, where I left my car. I was still a little buzzed, but it was close to three in the morning and I had to get home to get some sleep and get ready for work. Somehow, I thought it would be a good idea to text G and maybe wake him up for a little booty call before work. As I was texting him and driving (don't forget, I'm still drunk) I crashed my car into a parked vehicle on Glendale Ave. I panicked. I tried to start my car. It wouldn't start. I freaked out. I was gonna get a DUI!! I can't get a DUI, I'm a school teacher! I'm so fucked! I left the scene. I called G immediately and I started walking in the direction of his place. He drove down and picked me up. I had no idea how there were no police cars cruising around at that time. I must have had some guardian angels watching over me that morning.
Before I knew it, G's alarm was going off at six o'clock in the morning and it was time to get up. G dropped me off at my apartment and I called out sick to work. I went back to sleep for a little while and woke up around nine. I had to figure out how to get my car without getting into serious trouble. I concocted a story; I would say that my car was stolen from my apartment as I slept. I thought it was the perfect plan; I wouldn't be responsible for the hit-and-run if my car was stolen, right? So, I made the call to Glendale Police Department reporting my car stolen. I jumped in the shower because I still reeked of booze. And I'm pretty sure I was still drunk. A short while later, a police officer showed up at my door. I'm sure he smelled the liquor on my breath. I told him my story for his report. He informed me that my car was found on Glendale Ave and it was involved in a hit-and-run. I acted surprised. The officer then read back my narrative and he then looked at me and asked, "Are you sure you didn't get drunk last night and leave your car after crashing it?" Listen, I'm not a good liar to begin with and I definitely couldn't lie to this police officer standing in front of me. I broke down and confessed. He then scolded me and told me that I could be in really big trouble if I were to claim this story to be true. I could be prosecuted for insurance fraud. I was horrified. I had never been in trouble with the law before. The officer left and I was left with this pit in my stomach that my life was about to take some drastic turns. Luckily, no one could prove if I was drunk or not since no officers saw me or stopped me from leaving the scene. So, the only crime that I was guilty of was leaving the scene of a hit-and-run. All I had to do to cover my ass was to leave a note with my phone number and I would have been legally okay.
Later that day, I went and picked up a rental since my trip to Santa Barbara with G was still set for Saturday. The next morning, I headed over to G's to pick him up along with our dog. We drove up to Santa Barbara on a glorious January day. As we got off the highway and made our way towards the hotel, I got a text from a number that wasn't saved in my phone. The person identified themselves as the police officer from the day before. I thought it was quite odd that the officer contacted me. Of course, G began the 20 questions. Who texted you? Why is he texting you? How does he have your number? I had the same questions as well and then I remembered that my cell phone number was on the police report. I had never been in trouble before, so I didn't know what the protocol was regarding officers contacting people who file reports. The officer said he felt bad about yesterday and wanted to help me.
G of course said that he probably wanted to sleep with me.
The officer and I began to get friendly and the text messages began to come a little more frequent and personal. He would stop by here and there to check-up on me and talk about my case. I eventually was called in to speak with the Detective. Boy, did he give me a reaming only a father could give. It was like being yelled at by my Dad. It was harsh . . . but necessary. I acted very immature and I knew that I could have hurt someone or myself. I am beyond thankful that I didn't. I believe my angels were watching over me. I am a very lucky person.
The next seven months of my life were plagued with constant stomach aches and stress headaches from this hit-and-run accident. Only telling parts of the story to people at work so they wouldn't know the whole truth. I absolutely did not want anyone from work finding out about my accident. I mean, it was obvious something happened since I showed up to work with a rental and then eventually a new car since my car was determined to be totaled. It was a rough time to say the least. After several court dates and 80 hours of community service at the Goodwill in Glendale, I could close the chapter on this event. I told only a couple of close co-workers the truth about my ordeal.
The officer and I had started a bit of a romance during this time as he was helping me with my case and was quite concerned about my well-being. But he was married and had a step-child too. I wasn't a home-wrecker, but he was in a very unhappy marriage; at least that's what it sounded like. All throughout this time, G and I were still communicating, except for a brief six-week period in February to March when I was dating an old-flame from the past, but that quickly burned out. The officer was still making house calls and being quite flirtatious in our exchanges. I couldn't take anything with the officer seriously since I knew he was still married and I did not see myself in a relationship at the time. Too much stress, work, and I still had school obligations. I just wanted my hit-and-run court case to be over.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .