My new psychiatrist put me on Ambien so I could stop staggering out the door and into my car on no sleep, a condition worse than the Klonopin stupor I'm not allowed to put myself in anymore as the pharmacies all have my picture at their registers. "SCOTT DROVE TO IN N OUT ON AMBIEN AND DOESN'T REMEMBER IT," my sister immediately volunteered upon finding out about my latest prescription. "Who the fuck is Scott and what the fuck?" I texted back to her, sitting on my bed with the pill in hand and a mostly empty gallon of milk in the other.
"YEAH AND YOU HAVE NO ONE THERE TO STOP YOU."
I lowered both the pill and the milk and thought seriously about that. I'm a shitty driver when I'm awake. How would I fare in a state of unconsciousness? I went to the window and looked at my car in the driveway. Suddenly I cheered up.
"I don't have any gas," I told her and returned to my room to take the pill. It was true. If I chose to drive to In n Out, I would not make it very far. Couldn't I go to McDonald's or Burger King or even Boston Market if necessary? They were so much closer. I decided I'd made those drives so many times, I'd be successful at them even in a coma. I thought of all the activities Hope from Days of Our Lives was able to carry out during her extended periods of Stefano-inflicted amnesia. Yeah, I could make it to Taco Bell.
I woke up in my bed the next morning, no evidence of any fast food around me. Unless I dined at Chili's or something and finished my whole meal which is unlikely, I appeared to have remained in bed. Later that day I would run a red light at Watt Ave and cringe as the flashbulbs and another 500 dollars went off, but I was fully conscious at the time. Unfortunately.