64 •••••• Busted on HWY 280 ••••

Photographers often get invited to inticing fashion events. Mainly because the event sponsor knows that a photographer would bring attractive,    undiscovered models with them.

Hot Models will always go when a photographer invites then because it is their chance to go to a cool fashion event and hopefully get discovered.

One time I was attending this influential fashion event in San Francisco with two glamorous models. I mean, I was only in my twenties and what else am I going to do. The event was fun, but the drive home was more memorable. Mostly because the drinks where free, and I knew I had too much. But I still wanted to play it cool.

I was racing down Highway 280 in a brand new, white Acura legend. Which was a pretty sporty car for the day, so it definitely stood out.    Then I saw the red lights flashing in the mirror.    I knew I was in trouble.    Like I said, I had had too much to drink.

The officer came over two my window, saw the two ladies sitting on one seat next to me, ask ask me to step out of the car.    Not a good sign.    But I had already learned, from previous experience, when you get pulled over, there are a couple rules to follow

Number one, be respectful. The police officer is just doing his job. Like any human being, if you show them respect, there’s a much better chance he’ll show you respect. Number two, do as they ask. Don’t be an ass.

He asked me where I was coming from and if I had anything to drink.    I was honest about the first question.    Then came the field sobriety tests.

The first one was to close me eyes and touch my finger to my nose.

No Problem.

The he asked me to recite the alphabet.

This is where my arrogance comes in to play. I looked at him and said, “got something harder? “

Before I go any further, I should let you know the following:

II’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol. I could drink quite a bit without appearing particularly drunk. But there was one surefire way to tell that I’d had too much: I would feel compelled to prove to everyone that I wasn’t drunk by walking on my hands.    If I ever did that, you knew that I had too much drink. But you would still be amazed that I could do it.

Back to the story.

So I told the cop, “I’ll tell you what, if I can walk that straight line ( on the HWY where the asphalt met the curb), on my hands, you let me go. If I can’t, you take me in.”

He agreed. So I did a flip to my hands, walked the straight line, stood up and said ” well, a deal is a deal”.

The cop just stared at me.    He looked genuinely astonished, but he gave in. With one caveat.    I had to sit in the back of the care and let one of the girls drive.    Fair enough.

Looking back, it was probably not my finest moment. But it was certainly a memorable evening. To this day, whenever I think about Highway 280, I remember two things:

A brand-new white Acura Legend, and the night I talked my way out of a DUI test by walking down the highway on my hands.