You are never too old to stop learning. Drinking too much sparkling wine at a wedding after a break from drinking alcohol? How about running out of fuel on the highway because you put too much faith in the range to empty calculation of your vehicle (yes – a weak attempt at defending myself and preserving some self-respect)? Two opposing sides of basic judgement regarding the required volume to maintain mechanical motion. One body over-fuelled, the other under-fuelled. Ironically the result for us both was the same. That is, bringing a body at motion to a sudden and complete stop. It is true, I was a victim of my own misjudgement on two very hilarious fronts in the space of a singular weekend trip out of town. It is also true, that friends were there to witness both events. The latter of which was caught candidly on camera by a wonderfully sensitive friend who wasted no time in sharing said camera work with the world. Despite being two days apart, was one misjudgement a direct result of the previous? Absolutely, let me explain.
Overexcited
I love weddings. What better excuse to dress-up, catch up with friends and have a few drinks as you watch two people at their most emotionally vulnerable commit to spending their lives together. My excitement for this wedding was high for a few reasons. It had been a long time between drinks with this particular group of friends, so there were lots of people to see and converse with about how busy we had all been without giving away too much insight as to what we had actually been up to. Secondly, we were all aware that this would be one of the last opportunities for a gathering like this for the foreseeable future, such are the times we are facing. Finally, I had been self-isolating for four weeks before self-isolating became a thing, having just returned from a four week stint working at sea. With the time in between working hours, think of it like a forced detox from extreme social interaction and drinking alcohol, with naught else to do except work, exercise and attempt to eat as healthily as possible (I attempted to follow a ketogenic diet, because I could). So yeah, I was excited.
How the (un)mighty fall
Why was I drinking sparkling wine and not beer? Because, I wanted to be different, plus I was on some form of health kick, you see sparkling wine has less calories than beer (yes I know you just rolled your eyes). It was a mistake. At some point, I recall saying to myself, slow down, you are drinking those sparkling wines far too quickly. I switch to red wine, in a flawed attempt to slow down the rate of consumption. It’s in moments like these you feel extra proud of yourself, standing in a suit, swirling a glass of red wine like an absolute moron. I can only imagine what my wife was thinking at this point. Me on the other hand, simmering with my own self-importance, elated to be celebrating a wonderful occasion, probably the last chance to do so for some time to come. That is one of the cautions about any form of self-isolation and social distancing, we can become overly concerned with ourselves and not always in a positive way. The old saying, pride always comes before the fall. The downfall happens, and it happens quick. One moment you are spinning on the dance floor, the next moment you are spinning uncontrollably down a slope, headfirst into some bushes. It’s poetic justice really. I remember laughing at a patron at a wedding some six weeks earlier as she tumbled into some bushes. Bush girl we named her, as she discretely dusted off her dress. So, it was inevitable my own fall would end in similar circumstances. The universe never forgets, so be kind. This has never been more important than now, be as kind as you can.
I will be better
The aftermath of self-inflicted events such as these is a humbling experience indeed. You wake, with the feeling of dread. Yes, I am in my bed, next to my wife. But how did you get there? Despite the pounding headache, you squint through your eyes, you see your suit folded neatly on the chair in the corner. Hmm, that’s a good sign, maybe I wasn’t too bad last night. Quickly, the self confidence recedes, your wife explains how she undressed you last night and helped you to bed. Flashbacks from the end of the night come thick and fast, like a bad dream you are still trying to shake off. I curl up in the foetal position, embarrassment and self-pity striking me down harder than the sparkling wine the night before. Slowly a scent of hope, in the form of eggs and bacon fills the air and I slowly emerge. In that moment, I realise I have moved from fully grown, shoelace tying man to a dependent baby. I will save you any further form of self-loathing diatribe except that I slowly return to my former optimistic self by the end of the day. As I go to sleep again that night, I swear never to drink again and I make a promise to myself, I will be better tomorrow, if not for me, then at least for my wife.
One for the road
Tomorrow comes, but I forget. I am getting older, hangovers last two days and are often accompanied by profound absent mindedness. At least, this is my justification for the lead-up to the eventual “car battery failure” that was a car which ceased to function for lack of fuel. As we hit the road to come home, the low fuel warning light pinged. I didn’t even bother to check the range on the tank, I had less than 10 km to get to the brand-new petrol station I was determined to refuel at. These are all pathetic excuses to an easily avoidable solution, if you cannot tell I’ve been taking self-preparedness very seriously. The car lost power at 110 km per hour, the battery and engine fault warning lights appeared. There was 10 km on the range. I pulled over to the side of the road and called my mate who was only a few minutes behind. The beauty of this friend, he was masterful in survival situations. Not saying this was survival, but he would know what to do. It turns out, he knew exactly what he was doing as he pulled alongside my stalled vehicle, he was already filming. “What’s that, you’ve run out of fuel?” My feeble reply sounds pathetic on the replay “It’s the battery”. It was not the battery.
Underprepared, but not for long
A quick trip to the petrol station up the road and a 5 L jerrycan of fuel later, my car spluttered back to life. We crawled to the petrol station, my mate and his girlfriend following closely behind. To say my car was thirsty was an understatement. In what was reminiscent of my drinking form on the Friday night before, the car had put away 50 L in seconds. Test drive around the block confirmed my car was indeed functional, debunking the failed battery theory. There was still one more item to resolve, cancelling the roadside assistance call we had made earlier. “Yeah, we fixed the problem, the car is functional now”. I wonder if the operator on the end of the line could hear my friend yell out “If by fix it, you mean put fuel in it”, I will never know. What did it mater any way, my self-belief couldn’t get any lower. I will be better, I resolved for the second time in 24 hours.
Rearview reflection
The drive home was uneventful, mechanically at least. My self-esteem was to take a further battering as the video of my running out of fuel was circulated amongst friends and family members. This somewhat overshadowed my performance at the wedding two nights prior. News of that was also circulating. The beauty of a long drive is it offers time to reflect. You realise, despite what has happened previously the road will go on. We must keep moving. Every so often, events will transpire that humble us in the most surprising of ways. We need to be tested and we need to be reminded, we are not infallible. Sometimes external events will happen that force our decisions, impact our choices. Other times, we are undone by our internal ego-driven minds. Regardless of the force, we can reset, and we can resolve to get back on the road, learn from our mistakes and keep moving forward. At the end of the day I now know my limits and I know the limits of my car, as a bonus I have a 5L jerrycan which should service us both in these times of need.