New York City blackout

Ever wake up with your heart in your throat? In a cold sweat? A severe panic?

If you have, odds are the reaction was due to a nightmare.

But in my case, the cause was very real.

It was a frigid Saturday night in December of '93. Little more than two months earlier, I had lost my job -- a job I was good at and enjoyed immensely.

Despite putting on a brave front daily, I was depressed and taking an antidepressant to cope.

I had been invited to a Christmas party in New York City. I remember a few friends being there, but I can't even remember whose party it was.

I had fun and got drunk -- very drunk. I was so drunk I had the balls to ask a girl if she needed a ride to her place uptown. She accepted my "offer," and she reciprocated by driving. Of course, she did so because she valued her life -- though she apparently didn't value mine because she sent me on my way.

Despite it being between 3-4 a.m., I headed to midtown for a morning-cap. Drove right past a bar that was among my regular hangouts. As I went by, the bartender was outside lowering the awning. I didn't stop, and made it to the corner. Red light. Green light. I turned left ... and next thing I know, I was on an exit ramp somewhere in Northern New Jersey.

New Jersey???

I had blacked out!

BLACKED OUT!

I always thought blacking out meant passing out -- not so. When I got hold of my senses, I was driving ... make that sliding ... on an exit ramp. There was sleet storm, and the roads were lethal. That probably was a good thing, because there were no cars to collide with. Nobody in his or her right mind and/or sober, would be driving at this hour.

I then drove the 35 minutes or so to my house, praying all the way there. When I got home, collapsed on the couch.

When I awoke a few hours later, I was scared, embarrassed and regretful like I had never been before or since. I went out to check my car for damage and blood. When I found neither, I started to get teary-eyed.

I shouldn't have driven. I deserved to have been arrested. I could have died.

I never will forget that night -- which is a good thing.