Hello readers,

During a weekend 10 years ago, I had lunch with my Ataxia friends in Toronto.

Our conversation covered a lot of ground, eventually landing on “drunkishness”, and how we Ataxians can seem drunk when, in fact, we are far from it.

With that inspiration, I’ve decided to write about some experiences when a police officer approached me for being “drunk” in public.

This is just one story…

During mid 1980s, in small town Maple Ridge, BC, which had really undependable, practically non-existant, public transportation.

One day, I was apparently playing hooky during my 9th grade English class, I was often skipping classes, maybe I found them boring, or I found them incomprehensible due to my emerging hearing & vision losses? I can’t recall… but I’m getting off topic a bit…
that One Day found me walking from my junior high school in the west side of Maple Ridge to the town arcade, about 20 minutes east.

As I trudged along 124th Street, which was paved, yet sans sidewalks, I was “pulled over” by the local constabulary for a couple of blatantly obviously reasons:

– I was out of school,

– I was dressed like a tough 80’s kid, oversized hiking boots (my older brother’s, naturally borrowed), a sleeveless jean jacket (mine) over a leather jacket (my brother’s, again borrowed), and ripped jeans (mine),

– I have a Walkman, with AC/DC blasting at full volume through crappy 80’s headphones,

– I was most likely smoking a Benson & Hedges Gold cigarette,

– I was probably spotted spying on a cute red-headed girl’s house, a crush who, typical, didn’t know I existed.

Those were the days! All this defined the 80’s teenager!

However…! Then there is me… a different 80’s kid… with emerging hearing, vision and ataxia issues. The latter was undiagnosed…

So, I’m meandering, trudging, on the edge of street, with my head in a cloud, both figuratively and literally, probably flipping the bird at cars that pass too close to me… Were they honking? Most likely, but even then I couldn’t distinguish a honk from a rebel yell!

But, a car does a bit more, it swerves in front of me, forcing me to step into the puddle that I was trying to avoid. I spot the light bar, and realize it’s a police vehicle.

Before the cop even gets out of the car, I’ve tossed the cig into the same puddle I’m now standing in, remove my headphones; ready for a confrontation!

“Have you been drinking?” was his first, and apparently only, question.

My answer came pretty quickly, we were a foot apart, with an exhalation of a full olfactory assault of Benson & Hedges Gold, coffee, my unbrushed teeth, Lucky Charms, I exhaled a “Not today…”

Taking two, then three steps back, obviously repulsed by the smell, but sucked in some fresh air and said: “I think you’re right!  I also think your boots are too big and they are making you walk more crookedly.  I’ll bring you back to school.” or something to that degree.

Did he drive me? I can’t recall, but he did not ask for my name or phone number, I would have lied anyways, 80s kid that I was.

I remember being back at school and spending the rest of the day zipping fro class to class in my socks.

When I got home, I ditched the boots and the leather jacket, not telling anyone what happened.

That meandering walk was my an unknown, at the time, introduction into ataxia. In other words, at 15, I should have walked straight, even with Bon Scott bellowing in my ears!

Next up: The Mall Showdown…