It was Summer, I know that for sure. I’m not sure of the year. Probably 1986 ish. I was in Northbrook for the weekend, visiting my parents and girlfriend L. My friend T had ridden up with me in my 1978 Chevy Impala that had about a million miles on it and had driven the route up and down I55 probably a hundred times.

I’d spent the day, as in all of it, drinking beer with L’s brother B. I was in no shape to walk, more less drive when 6:00 rolled around and I was supposed to pick up T at Jake’s pizza in Glenview where his brother managed. I got there, on Waukegan Road at about 6:30. Now I had never met a person that could put down hard liquor like T and still walk and seemingly function. When I got to the restaurant he was in a back booth where he had been all afternoon and he was in no shaped to represent a human. So, I sat down and joined him and ordered another beer figuring at worst we’d be sleeping there that night.

That’s when the hard stuff came out. A bottle of Wild Turkey showed up on the table and two glasses. “Oh, no, I don’t do that stuff.” I told T. I have an allergy to hard liquor dating back to my freshman year. Over the course of the next hour, to my few beers, I watched him about finish the bottle. By now it was about 10:00. It was a two-and-a-half-hour drive at the speed limit back to Normal.

That’s when the cocaine came out along with another bottle of Wild Turkey. Now I had a history with coke, and I’d sworn off ever touching it again. And as much as I’d like to, I passed. However, sure, I’ll have another beer or three. T finished off his second bottle, and polished off the coke and looked like a man ready to implode.

At some point, I figured if we could find the car, we could take off. We found the car. The rule was; If you can get the key in the ignition by the third try, you were good to go. We headed down Waukegan towards I294. Somehow, we paid all the tolls at all the people boxes, because we made it to I55. I55 is straight, flat and featureless. Other than the Lorenzo Road truck stop about half way there is nothing. I remember seeing the lights of Lorenzo Road. That’s it. The next thing I remember is waking up parked in the back yard of the house I lived in off College Ave. with T asleep next to me. The sun was up and the birds were chirping. I have no idea how I made it there or how I missed the driveway and wound up in the back yard, front bumper up against the neighboring wall. I appear to have just parked up against it. The engine was still running. The transmission was still in Drive and my foot was on the brake. The radio was still playing WBBM 780. Everything appeared to be “normal” with the exception of my being on the back lawn.  I have one theory: Auto Pilot. The other theory? I had a guardian angel watching over me, steering and working the pedals.

I had an agreement with my mother that I call her when I got home, which seeing as I’d left at about 6 should have been around 8:30 or 9:00 last night. I had to lie to her and tell her that I forgot to call and went to bed early. Not cool. It’s bad Karma to lie to your mother.