I ran a mile around the jogging track to warm up (in 10:45 seconds), then headed over to the stationary bikes. Sure, it was only 10 degrees outside, but I’d be fine wearing shorts for just the few seconds to get from my car into the building. I had made the decision at the house, before leaving, to wear my shorts and hoodie – it was going to be a long day, and I could save a few minutes if I didn’t have to change at the gym. I arrived at Bally’s, and quickly bolted from my car to the lobby. The day started off like most days this week – at the gym. The officer continued: “I’m going to have you do a couple field sobriety tests.”ĩ:30am (14 and a half hours earlier). I did as I was asked, and stood there, unable to see anything beyond a few feet, watching the heat from my own breath spiral upwards, like cigarette smoke. “Please put your glasses right here,” the officer said, pointing to the trunk of my car. The night air gnawed at my fingers and ears – why did I leave my hat and gloves in the car? The officer had me join him in the shoulder of the road between my parked car and his cruiser, brightly lit by the cruiser’s headlights, and within seconds my teeth were chattering. I had glanced at the thermometer in the car moments earlier – it was 2 degrees outside. I unbuckled my seatbelt, opened the door, and stepped out onto the two-lane country road. “I’m going to have you step out of the car,” the officer said to me, the light from his flashlight partially blinding me.
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