A Lucky Fool

By John-Paul Marciano

    In the early morning hours of June 28, 1983 the adage “God watches over children, drunks and fools” certainly applied to me. A college classmate of mine was moving to California and we wanted to get together for one last night out. Since he lived in Hartsdale, NY and I lived in Stamford, CT, we decided to meet at a bar in Port Chester.

    It was a beautiful summer night so I cruised down I-95 with the sun roof open and the stereo blaring. The bar we were to meet at was located across the street from the train station. It was a weekday watering hole for commuters looking to take the edge off a stressful day. But by the time we walked in at 8:30 that Monday night, we pretty much had the place to ourselves.

    Because the place was sparsely populated, it was the perfect setting. We had our choice of booths and we didn’t have to shout to hear each other. Another perk was the short wait time between rounds.

    For the next four-and-a-half hours, we talked about the past and our hopes for the future. Also, during this time we drank pretty much non-stop. Needless to say, by the time we were ready to leave we were half in the bag. We staggered out of the bar and across the street to our cars and spent the next ten minutes saying goodbye and exchanging well wishes.

    I paused before leaving the parking lot. I had a decision to make. What route was I going to take home? I had two options. The first was to get back on I-95 and go home the way I came. The concern I had with this option was whether it was a good idea to be driving at a high rate of speed in my present condition. My second option was to work my way over to the Boston Post Road (Route 1) which parallels I-95, but with the stop lights takes longer. My concern with this option was again regarding my present condition. Do I risk a possible DUI by driving through Greenwich?

    After weighing my options, I put the car in gear and headed for the Boston Post Road. Not wanting to draw unwanted attention from the police, I was careful to stay below the speed limit without driving too slowly. Thankfully, I got myself home in one piece and without harm to anyone else. It was about 2:00 AM.

   Half-awake and nursing a cup of coffee in my office a few hours later, I almost fell out of my chair when I was startled by a colleague knocking loudly on the door jamb.

    Having a good laugh at my expense he said, “I’m surprised to see you here this morning.”

    Puzzled, I replied, “Last I checked it’s Tuesday. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

    “Don’t you take I-95 to get to work?”

    “No, I take the Merritt.” It was clear there was a problem on the northbound side of I-95 so I asked the obvious question. “What happened on I-95?”

    “You don’t know?” I just shook my head in reply. “A section of the Mianus River Bridge fell into the river early this morning.”

    Concerned, I said, “That’s in Greenwich. I live in Stamford so that bridge wouldn’t be part of my commute. But I was in Port Chester last night. Do you know what time the bridge collapsed?”

    “About 1:30 this morning.”