CHRISTMAS DAY TRAFFIC STOP (3:00 AM)

You know, I haven't scribbled too much too regularly on these "pages" lately, but tonight, I just got this burning sensation in my gouty fingers and my spongy grey matter to do something seasonal.  It was also caused by the totally silly questions that I started to ask myself about what would happen to my friend (yeah, I do have 1) who was stopped coming home from a "noche buena" (happy night) party after Midnight Mass.
My friend is not afraid to have fun in the right circumstances.  Christmas is one of the better suited circumstances for having fun...including ascertaining the quality of the Holiday Tequila.  So, he obliged the hosts by testing the libations of choice.  One of them was a gift that regularly sells for $125.00 per fifth.  After all, they wanted to know if what they were serving was respectful of the guests.  Like it says in the Bible, "you only serve the best."
According to my friend all went well until on his way home he saw the wig-wagging blue light on the cruiser roof reflected in his rear-view mirror.
Let the tape in the "black box" - you know, the one that contains all the incriminating facts despite the total obliteration of the rest of the vehicle - yeah, that one - so, let the tape show that the curious police person who conducted the interrogation was polite (my friend is a a safe shade of white), and he (at that time of day,on the holidays, they are all "he") gave the driver a choice as to whether or not to take the "breathalizer" test.  My friend said "yes" to the breath test.  Depending on your point of view, he "passed." :-(
When I asked him why he did that, his answer was:  "I thought it was my only way to beat it in court."
"Huh!?!" says I
"Lemme explain," says he.
"That fine and respectful servant of the state does't really know if I was cogent enough to appreciate 'the consequences of my consent to the test.  He didn't test my mind he only knows what the breath 'machine told him. He didn't ask me when my last swallow took place.  When he asked me how far 'away I lived from that spot, I told him a quarter of a mile.  I said that I would park my car and walk 'the rest of the way home.
'He agreed.  Got in his car.  Watched me for a minute or two as I started to walk and then he left.
'When he left, I got in my car and drove the two miles home.  He must not have checked my car's 'location since not a soul has called me nor come to the house to arrest me after two days.
'I'm gonna beat this guy like a drum in court.  He determines that I am too impaired to drive.  He also 'determines that despite that I'm reasonable enough to consent to an incriminating act like take a 'breath test.  Sorry, man, you gotta be outta yer mind to consent to an incriminating act in front of the 'tin badge.  So how can I be sane enough to be guilty of a crime?"
Oh, wait, you say, but he'll say that you lied to him about where you lived and that you drove your car home so as not to have to walk two miles.
"Right you are," I shout, "but he doesn't know who drove my car home.  Besides, because I was able to be so astute as to outwit Mr. Blueshirt means that 'I was not too impaired to connive and therefore not too impaired to drive.  Therefore he arrested a 'person who could not possibly be guilty under the law."

I win!