Behind the Wheel of Sleep

 

I woke up one morning to find all the lights in the joint on, as well as the TV and my computer. CDs were scattered on the floor. Some of the cases were broken.

I stumbled to the front door but found the dead bolt and chain in place. Checked the windows. Nothing.

Didn't take long to ID the perpetrator: Me.

Earlier this year, a judge in New Jersey cleared a client of a DWI charge because she'd taken Ambien -- with four glasses of wine -- before she got behind the wheel.

She's obviously not the first, and certainly won't be the last, of tens of millions of Ambien users to go sleep-drivin' after midnight.

More than a hundred people signed up for one class action suit against the maker of the world's most famous sleeping pill (trade name: zolpidem). Other cases have also hit the court dockets the past few years.

In 2007, the FDA ordered Sanofi-Aventis to warn users that sleep driving and dialing-while-drugged could be a side effect of its little oblong pill. Same goes for Halcion, Lunestra and Seconal.

Lucky for me, the worst I do now while taking Ambien is dig out some dark chocolate in the middle of the night. No lights needed: Eyes glued shut, I follow my semi-sweet radar straight from the bed to the booty cabinet.

Then again, I don't wash it down with three or four glasses of wine -- or take an additional two Seroquels -- as did the Jersey driver, who awoke the next morning to find DWI summonses on her table, along with a note from her sister telling her which towing company had her car.

The officer who wrote the tickets said her car had its hazards activated and a flat front tire as it bounced off a curb -- twice. He said she also got out in her bedclothes. Police have the entire episode on tape.

The woman -- 54-year-old Marie Connelly of Hillsborough -- later said she considered it strange that the cops found her outside Shop-Rite. She prefers Stop & Shop.

Never mind that her blood-alcohol level was .10, above New Jersey's .08 limit for drivers. A clever lawyer helped Connelly beat the rap using the "pathological intoxication" defense.

That would be: taking a medication without knowing all of the potential ramifications.

The judge said he was convinced Connelly intended to "go to bed, sleep through the night and then get up in the morning to go to work." It wouldn't be fair, he ruled, to hold her responsible for ending up like an extra in "Night of the Living Dead."

C'mon.

Does that mean I can pop a zolp or two and finally hit the karaoke circuit? I've always wanted to hop the 'stiles and take the "A" train its entire route. Or leave a voicemail for my former boss telling him what a fat, greasy mouth-breather he is.

But I wouldn't.

That because I'm careful. When I do mix it with whiskey (hope my doc isn't reading this), I make sure the door's triple-locked. This way, my wife would hear me fumbling with the chain and nab me trying to flee.

Sure, every now and then I might discover an indiscreet, albeit honest, Facebook comment that I hadn't intended (now THERE'S a good legal defense). Or an Examiner piece where I rank on my former boss, the fat bastard.

Just kidding.

Those times when I've medicated-and-messaged, I've deleted the offensive posts once Mr. Hyde crawled back into my subconscious.

I wish I could side with the pro-Am argument. But there's simply far too much risk and danger involved for other people. These drugs are hallucinogens. They literally hypnotize your brain to sleep. They're not Flinstones chewables, for Patsy's sake.

Why not put establish laws requiring that customers sign consent forms acknowledging the various side effects -- in particular, sleep driving? "I understand that I could face criminal penalties if these narcotics are found in my system following a traffic stop." Sign here.

That paper would be all a judge needs to convict you if you end up behind the wheel in your PJs, giving some cop the 5,000-yard stare.

The responsibility, then, would be on you -- where it belongs.