Waiting for Yon

The story starts the same.
It's dark. It's cold.
There's a threat of rain.
The radio is quiet.
When the dispatcher
calls my name
I'm not close.
I rarely am.
It's in the South Village.
I'm in the North.
If I was in the South,
the call would be in the North Village,
or on the state highway, 
or on the far edge of the East Village.

A drunk is stumbling toward his truck.
I hit the lights, scream down 
the South Village road to stop
a destined DUII wreck.

I find the driver in his truck:
staring, slack-jawed, and stupefied.
I block him in with the ram bar of my car.
His window is open.
I walk over.

How much you been drinkin' tonight?

His eyes are red.
He reeks of alcohol.
He struggles to think.

"Uuuunnnngggghhhh?"
Is his best response.

Right.
Sorry, buddy.
You're under arrest.
You're drunk.
You aren't driving tonight.

"Uuunnghhh.
Somebody hit me?"

Who?

There's blood on his hands.
He touches the back of his head:
increasing the amount, brightening the color.

"Uh dunno. Somebody?
All  know is I was walking back from the bar."

And you fell. 

I point to the pool of blood in the street
surging down the grade toward the gutter. 

I pull him out of the truck, cuff him,
and look at the mound of raised fleshed,
 rent and lacerated, 
coated in a semi-congealed seep of blood, 
in the back of his head.

I roust Fire from their beds.
He needs stitches.
I remove the cuffs.
He can't go to the tank.

And so the story ends, again and again,
always the same way:

As we wait for the ambulance,
he wants to know where stands.
The answer is the same.

You are standing there
leaning against the patrol call.
You are not under arrest.
You are going to the hospital.
We are waiting for the ambulance.

"How much trouble in am I in?"

None. 
You are not under arrest.
You are going to the hospital.
We are waiting for the ambulance.

"Can you give me a breathalyzer?
I'd like to know how drunk I am?"

We don't carry those.
You can ask the hospital for a blood test.

"Can I ask you where I stand?"

You are standing there

leaning against the patrol call.

You are not under arrest.

You are going to the hospital.

We are waiting for the ambulance.

"How much trouble in am I in?"

None. 

You are not under arrest.

You are going to the hospital.

We are waiting for the ambulance.

"Can you give me a breathalyzer?

I'd like to know how drunk I am?"

We don't carry those.

You can ask the hospital for a blood test.

"Can I ask you where I stand?"

...

"My name is Yon Yonson.

I live in Wisconsin.

I work in a lumber mill there.

The people I meet when I walk down the street,

They say, "What is you name?"

And I say,

"My name is Yon Yonson.

I live in Wisconsin..."

Comments

[Cath]

Oh, my, that's just hilarious :-D
But I don't understand, why is he no longer in trouble just because he hit his head? He was still about to drive while drunk, wasn't he? Or does the blow to his head excuse his actions (because he could have a head injury)?

[RD]

Cath,

No driving, no DUII. It's as simple as that.
There are no laws penalizing public intoxication.
I can take him to a detox facility if he is a danger
to himself or others (against his will), but nothing more.

RD

[Jade]

It's like Drunk Groundhog Day.

[RD]

@ Jade,

Like so much of police work......

[Peppypilotgirl]

Wasn't Bill Murray's character drunk for most of that movie anyway, Jade?