The Mazda

The only time I was a designated driver and actually stayed sober.

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photo_13551936074ae90d705-LThere was a time, sophomore year of College, when I didn’t drink. It was half a conscious decision, with the other half decided for me by my then girlfriend, Ella. The reason that I did not do much drinking is a story for another time, but my sobriety was the rationale behind the events of a cold November night. It was no later than nine pm when I left Ella’s room to go back to my own, at least in theory. In reality, as I entered my building on the quiet New Hampshire campus I was stopped by a friend, Ben.

Ben was as close to a NH local as you could be while still being a Massachusetts yuppy wasp. I loved the kid, but he was one of the quirkiest people I had ever met. We had become fast friends the year before through our shared predilection towards 4am cigarettes and voluntary all nighters. Whenever he smoked a cigarette he would spit after nearly every drag, many times on himself in fact. New Hampshire mountain wind was not the most forgiving for someone with that habit. He was from a well off family but one of his front teeth was chipped, a remnant of a beer bottle taken forcefully to the face, from another friend of ours. He could have gotten it fixed but he didn’t. Amazingly none of this stopped beautiful girls from dating him with a surprising amount of regularity. Continue reading “The Mazda”