Christine Carey | Managing Editor
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For the normal student attending City College at this time during the semester, anxiety should be running high because of exams, finals and sleep deprivation.
Average students would be worried about a late paper or trying to make up assignments to get that D+ up to a C to keep their three units or financial aid. I have these worries as well, but I’m not your average City College student.
By the time this issue of The Express hits the stands I will have been on house arrest for 15 out of the 47 days I have to serve. For anyone out there who has never read my column, I’m doing this because I was convicted of two DUI’s last year at the end of the summer. I would have only had to do seven if I had one DUI. However, like I said, I’m not your average City College student.
I received a second DUI only a short three weeks after my first, and I have been paying fines, doing weekend jail time and now house arrest ever since. It has been pretty interesting, to say the least. I have a breath test at my house that goes off randomly, sounding like a European siren, all day long, with the exception of sleeping hours. For most of you out there who think you can fool this thing, trust me, it’s not possible.
It is like a controlling boyfriend.
I’m forced to blow it every two to three hours, and it knows where I’m at all day long. Not to mention I had to move my bed to the living room to sleep with it so I can hear it go off in the morning. Yes, it will be a hard breakup when the 47 days are over, but he’s obviously not my type. Besides forcing me to blow it four to six times a day, it has a recording of my voice that makes me repeat my name a thousand times so it knows it’s me. It’s the most white trash relationship I have ever been in. It will not be missed.
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I also have a new accessory just in time for the summer: an ankle bracelet. The normal reaction from people who see my ankle bracelet has been, “Dude, that’s awesome!” Whenever I hear this, it pisses me off. Do you know how hard it is to wear pants all day in the heat? Not to mention trying to get people to talk to you, and hoping they don’t think you are a complete criminal.
Just imagine meeting someone for the first time and saying, “Oh, sorry but I have to get home. I have a one-hour time period to get from here to my house, and if I don’t, the Sacramento Sheriff’s Department will come pick me up and throw me in jail.
By the way, can I get your number?” Oh, yes, that’s so incredibly sexy.
Besides all the obvious consequences I’ll have from this bullshit, the worst is not being able to use my “visitor’s curfew” for some good single fun. You know, the “thanks for the sex, but legally you have to leave by 9 p.m.” line.
My only plans to have some sort of fun while on lock-down are completely crumbling before me.
I guess I will just have to be what the system wants me to be while on home detention: completely miserable.
The system finally got it right. Complete sobriety, daily forced oral tests and a cock-block permanently attached to my ankle for 47 days will make me never want to drink and drive again.
