Teens: Drinking and Driving

The Undesignated Driver
Last summer King High School was rocked. A car full of teenagers, most under the influence, plowed into a telephone pole, an accident that took the life of the driver, who was twice the legal limit. Why didn't anybody take the keys? Why didn't one of the sober kids take the wheel? Why didn't somebody call home?

At Josh's school across town, JFK, the faculty and administration stepped up alcohol-awareness programs. In addition, the Parents' Association resolved to reduce the chances of such an occurrence at their school. Most senior parents signed contracts not to allow drink to be served in their homes to teenagers. They also agreed that there would be no questions asked if their kids called for a ride home at any time. They didn't enjoy thinking that their kids were drinking on weekends and they didn't want to endorse it, but they were realistic, too. The seniors also signed contracts. They agreed to having a designated driver and pledged to call if they ever found themselves over their heads.

It was weird, and largely unspoken, but some JFK parents might be forgiven for thinking that, awful as the accident had been, maybe their own kids would take it as a screeching wake-up call. No one would call that a silver lining. At the same time, maybe their kids would be more careful than ever before, and maybe their parents could sleep better at night.

The three boys flipped coins, and Josh came up heads and the others tails, which made him the designated driver. Steve and Dex did not bother to fake disappointment. Of course, they were major stars on the party scene, while Josh, even though he was also a senior, was a newcomer—and, honestly, he didn't drink much. Still, he was resolved to try a few things at this late stage in his high school career, and going out with guys like Steve and Dex constituted a dramatic change. Besides, at school and in classes the three of them got along pretty well, and when they mentioned the party to him on Friday, Josh saw no reason not to go: his social calendar wasn't what anybody would call busy.

Not long after the three arrived at the party, Josh was surprised for lots of reasons. For one thing, he found himself having a pretty good time. Being known as the designated driver was a kind of badge of honor—in a funny way. It certainly set him apart from most kids at the party. And yet it put him in with the other designated drivers, drinking Coke and watching the wheels come off the other kids as they drank and drank. It was like there were two different parties going on simultaneously. It was also, well, interesting to be stone sober and see how the other kids' true selves seemed to be coming out. True selves weren't always a pretty sight.

All right, self-righteousness did come easy to him. At least that's what his big sister always seemed to mean when she was angry with him, which was quite often. "Josh, you can be such a jerk without even trying hard." He was glad she was away at college. If he went to a local college, maybe he could talk his parents into giving him her room, which was bigger and nicer than his. Then again, maybe she had the right idea, taking off for school.

Several hours later, Josh was sipping mineral water and feeling superior when Dex stumbled over to him, eyes glazed and wearing a T-shirt he didn't have on when he came to the party.

"Louie Louie, we gotta go, party sucks."

"Really? It's early, it could get better." Not that he could testify from firsthand experience.

"OK, give me the keys, then, you can stay if you want."

"You're wasted, Dex."

"Joshua! Don't be like you always are."

"Still not giving you the keys." Josh did not know where he was getting the strength to stand up to Dex, but he couldn't stop doing it either. He looked for help from Steve, but he was dancing like a maniac with three girls, and it didn't look like anyone could get his attention. "We had an agreement," Josh said. "Don't do this, Dex."

"Don't do this, Dex," Dex mimicked. "Hey, Designated, we friends or not?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Friends trust each other. I can drive. Plus, it's my car."

He did have a point about the car: it was his. Still, Josh held his ground: "I'm not going anywhere, and you're not going anywhere, we had an agreement. I'm the designated driver."

"Consider yourself undesignated. Give up the keys, now."

"No."

"Don't make me come over there. You're not my jailer, and not my mom."

"Just calm down, OK? Stay here, I'll get Steve and we can go, all right?"

"I don't want to go anywhere with you. It's my car."

"I can't give you the keys."

"You're going to make me do something I don't want to do."

"That's what I'm trying to stop you from doing."

"You are such a donna." Then Dex took a swing at Josh but didn't even come close to grazing him. That's when everybody in the party rushed up and separated them. In all the commotion and shouting, Josh heard a few things from Dex he wished he hadn't heard, but in a minute they were dragging Dex outside to calm down.

It all happened so fast that Josh didn't realize till after it was over that he was still shaking. Dex was a strong guy, and he tried to hit him and . . .

"Man, bummer," said Stacey, a girl Josh knew only from a safe distance in Physics class, where he used to watch her secretly most of the period when he wasn't contemplating gravity and the formula of 9.8 meters per second per second. She was somebody he yearned to talk with if she ever cut him a lucky break. Till now that moment had never arrived. "That wasn't right what Dex did," she said. "I know you were just trying to do the right thing." Her gravelly drawl made him feel itchy inside.

"I was?" Then he added. "I was, I guess. He OK?"

"Dex can get a little crazy at parties, is all. He'll be all right when he gets some fresh air. You'll see, he'll come back and give you a hug and apologize like mad, you wait. I'm glad you showed up at the party; I didn't expect you. Want this?"

This? That would be the joint Stacey was offering him with a smile.

"What?" Sure, he had tried it once before, but . . .

"It's pretty lightweight, go on. You deserve it, it'll calm you down."

Josh rolled around in his mind those notions she had broached: he did deserve it after what happened, and it would calm him down. Time for changes, Josh, or what?

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