Tony Hendriks - JAMAICAN PALEFACE NO MATTER how many people are killed or maimed, we still get away with drunk driving in Jamaica. If you're caught in the USA they lock you up, throw away the key and forever after you'll live as Bubba's wife.
"Kiss me neck! It's the last reason I still live in Jamaica!" an alcoholic friend of mine, known for driving home, drunk as a lord, every night from rum bars, go-go clubs and brothels around Kingston, once uttered in response to the announcement that stricter drink drive laws were to be enforced. That was fifteen years ago and as far as I can see, very little has happened since.
There was a brief flirtation with breathalyser machines but they were made for beer and whiskey and suffered meltdown confronted by white rum.
"I'll do a test but only if the arresting officer does one first!" mooted the enormously buxom landlady of a hostelry frequented not merely by officers of the constabulary and at least one Commissioner but situated adjoining a police station.
"I'm a better driver after I've had a couple of drinks!" What? No, you may think you're less likely to vent frustration on other motorists if relaxed by alcohol, but check your reflexes. You can usually tell how well co-ordinated you are by the gravy on your shirt and the pee stains on your pants.
Alcohol is in our blood (pun intended). We feed babies beer, quaff hot stout for breakfast, rub rum on our heads for medicinal purposes, conjure science with liquid spirits and rely on an industry aged in the cask but, at the risk of a hangover, we have to stop driving while intoxicated. I can say all this because I was one of the worst offenders. Now my fog has cleared, I've seen the light.
I once sat and counted how many crashes I'd had, counting dings and dents, scrapes and fender benders alongside anything that needed beating, filling, insurance or a new identity. I'm embarrassed to reveal my tally. Still, giving up alcohol over ten years ago has improved my average. Since 1993 I've only had one prang. I reversed into a lamppost in a car park. It was painted such a bright colour you couldn't miss it. I didn't. Buses running into the back of me and motorbike messengers looking the other way not included, the other 23 times called for cars to be repainted, salvaged, jacked, towed or turned upright. All but two were due to alcohol. Thank God, I only hurt myself. Mind you I scared a few.
There was a decade in Jamaica where it was foolhardy to park a car on Red Hills Road between ten and midnight. I swiped mirrors, bent fenders, made pedestrians scramble and goats very nervous. My reflexes just weren't quick enough. Junctions moved location; roads changed size and narrowed where once they were wide. It wasn't my fault, my brakes had been tampered with, dry roads turned to oil slicks, drought-ridden gullies became flash flood tidal waves, bad light stopped play, and everyone else drove too fast even if they were parked. Even Blue Mountain didn't escape my wrath. Hill driving is quite suitable for drunks. The weaving round corners seems quite normal but it can mesmerise you into slumber. I drifted off and rammed the mountainside. Thankfully I slumped right not left or I would have flown over the precipice; my only hope of survival would have been landing in an early tree.
I rolled my car twice, the first time outside Devon House. "A duppy dat!" yelled Chalice as I crawled through the driver's window of my green Corona. The only thing broken was the 'Q' of white rum escorting me home. The nocturnal posse of windscreen washers helped me flip the car upright. The front offside wheel bent beneath, made it resemble a lame green dog. A flesh wound, considering I'd hit the central reservation at over 70 MPH, inexplicably turning left up Hope Road while flying at 5.00 a.m. I thought I was invincible. Thankfully 1973 Toyotas were made that way and the Lord looks after fools, drunks and children.
People! No one has to stop drinking. Just don't drive drunk! Drive and let live. Live and let walk. Keep death off the roads; Get a chauffeur! Jamaica is a labour-intensive society and we need the jobs.
Tony Hendriks is a comedian. He can be e-mailed at palefaceuk@aol.com and you can find out where he is playing at www.jamaicanpaleface.com.
