Throughout my high school career I was dependent on my parents and friends for a ride to school and it was a little embarrassing. I couldn’t wait to get my first car. I was nineteen a college woman with a steady job, and it was finally time for me to get the car I deserved.
After a couple of very generous paychecks and a lot of penny pinching, I was ready to hit the lots and get some test driving under my belt. After a few agonizing days of financing, credit approvals and signing dotted lines, I was the happy owner of a new shiny, blue Nissan Altima coupe. Although my car was supposed to be used for work and school, other plans came first.
I immediately had fun in mind! Driving was my new favorite thing to do even when there was nowhere to go, there was somewhere to go. Needed a ride? I was there. Wanted to go out? I’d be there in a heartbeat. It was Starbucks every night during the week with my girlfriends, and the endless club nights during the weekend. When I was behind the wheel I felt like “speed racer”. The windows defiantly had to be down with the sunroof open because I just loved the wind hitting my face and blowing my hair back. Everyone new I was coming a mile away with nothing but Britney Spears blasting out of my speakers. Although I should have focused on school and work, having a new car to take me where I wanted only made me carefree. Little did I know I was writing my own recipe for disaster?
I had started hanging out with acquaintances that liked partying more, and one of my “party” friends Karla invited me to a bar and grill called Wings N Rings on a Tuesday night. When I arrived a good friend of mine was playing that night in his band, Holly Madison. It was open bar for the band and their friends, including me. A good time was all I had planned for and I saw no harm in having a drink or two, but shortly thereafter it led to a shot or two or three. I had no idea what I was drinking but I drank it....