Lemmings in the Night

When you are hanging suspended in mid-air, held in place by the passenger side seatbelt while the car rests on its driver side door, you have a few moments to reflect on the propriety of drinking and driving.

In a small town, there never really is anyplace to go. And yet for some reason, after a case of beer the very first thing that pops into people’s minds is: “I gotta go to… (the store, my girlfriend’s house, the movies, what-have-you).” Therefore, there always seems to be a certain amount of drunk driving.

In my crowd, we always tried to be responsible. However, given the time when one of my crew found themselves in the state of suspension mentioned earlier, I’m not certain that we always got it right....

The most egregious lapses in judgment were those times when some guy insisted on driving home after a party. We’d always try to dissuade him and offer to drive him home. Most of the times he’d put up a fuss. Then someone would get the bright idea that he could drive himself home but someone sober(ish) would follow him to make sure he got there all right. I usually pointed out that all that meant was that you’d be there to witness his horrible death…. But no one ever listened. Like migrating lemmings, on more than one occasion the first car missed a turn and drove off into a field with the second car following right behind. Pretty dumb. At least lemmings have their migratory instinct as an excuse.

But maybe bored Vermonters have their own instinct. The monotony of small town life can become oppressive. You get antsy and just need a change for a while. And at a certain point, almost any change will do.

Those people with the financial means break the monotony through vacation travel. Others get a change of venue through artistic expression – their own or by attending concerts and shows. But no matter what, everyone eventually seeks a change of some sort. If those more positive and productive venues aren’t available, then we find ourselves driven to change in other ways – our consciousnesses through beer or our other favorite mind alterers, and our bodies in back road cruises. If necessary, even over a cliff or into a cornfield on a late summer night.

At some point, we have no choice. It is a matter of survival.

Even if not all of us survive.