I love a good breathalyser story. My own starts like this: Years ago I'd been at a wedding reception in Devonport. It was maybe 9pm and I decided to head home to get some work done. I guess I'd had four glasses of wine over about five hours. I'd had dinner too so I wasn't anticipating any problem.
Then at Takapuna, as I was about to get onto the motorway heading south, I realised police were breath-testing drivers. I might have been reasonably confident that I was under the limit but I didn't really want to put that belief to the test so I did a rapid U-turn.
But the New Zealand police are not stupid. A separate police car with two officers was conveniently positioned facing the other way. They were just waiting to catch anyone trying to evade the breath-testing.
I had to say my name and address into the screening device. Unsurprisingly there was alcohol on my breath. The next step was to blow into the bag - which was way more difficult than it looks. I huffed and I puffed but I couldn't get enough air in. The first policeman was not happy with me.
Then the good cop got out of the vehicle and asked me to try again. This time I had two police officers loudly encouraging me. Finally I completed the task then one of the officers asked me how old I was. "What's that got to do with anything?" I replied. "Well, Madam, if you're under eighteen you're over the limit," he explained. Luckily I was about twice that age at the time so I was fine to drive.