Tapu Misa: When it comes to alcohol, 20 may still be too young

I know one shouldn't confess to these things unless one is at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, but, well, I've had more than a passing acquaintance with the demon drink.

Ever since workmates introduced me to the cheering effects of alcohol, at what I've come to regard in my advanced state as the tender age of 20, I've been smitten. After growing up in a teetotal household, and attending my fair share of Pacific Island functions where the drink of choice was Raro cordial, I finally got a taste of what I'd been missing.

Actually, the taste itself was pretty awful - though with persistence I learned to like the stuff - but the effect was something else.

Indeed, a glass or two of sav blanc and I'm inclined to see the world and anyone in my sights in a more glowing light. I become more garrulous, and imagine myself to be a wittier and altogether more interesting person. My inhibitions disappear in a haze of alcohol-induced confidence.

And that's where the trouble usually starts. Inhibitions, I've come to realise, have their uses. They keep us from getting into strife; from saying and doing things that we invariably end up regretting. And that's just the grown-ups among us.

For all the hand-wringing over mind-altering drugs, alcohol seems to have crept in under the radar screen. Not only is it legal and socially acceptable but, according to the advertising, absolutely essential to our happiness.

Indeed, only the most socially retarded among us would attempt to hold an event without laying on the alcohol. And these days it's never been easier to get our hands on it.

I like that I can throw a few bottles of wine into my shopping trolley every week, even as I resolve to cut down my consumption for the sake of my liver and my figure (alcohol being rather fattening). Much as I like to spout the research that shows regular consumption can be beneficial, I know that less would be safer.

Which is why I have a lot of sympathy for Progressive MP Matt Robson's push to raise the drinking age to 20. If we fully mature adults can't handle our drink, what chance the still-developing teenager?

Teenagers under the influence, we're told, are more likely to indulge in risky, life-threatening and changing behaviour. But take a look at the adult population, and it's easy to see whose behaviour they're modelling. Unsafe and unwise sex, violence, drink-driving - these aren't just teen problems. Given today's trends, you'd have to wonder if 20 is still way too young.

Then there's the continuing parade of public figures whose careers and marriages have gone into freefall after several drinks too many - if not by being caught driving while under the influence, then certainly by failing to shut up while under the influence.

That's the thing about being under the influence - not only is your vision and judgment impaired but you're the last one to know how bad you look. How else to explain the sorry saga of former Police Commissioner Peter Doone?

Doone, as we all now know because he's suing for defamation of his character, was on his way home on election night 1999 with his future wife, Robyn Johnstone, after spending several hours at an event where there had been much dancing and some drinking.

They had just picked up takeaways from a favourite restaurant in Courtenay Place in Wellington when their car was pulled over by a patrol car, siren and lights flashing. It was about 9.15 and Johnstone was in the driver's seat. She'd had two or three glasses of wine, which might explain why she failed to turn on the car's headlights.

Now, I happen to know that the reaction of most people to the sight of a police car pulling them over is "bugger", or words to that effect, especially if they've had a drink or two, and are exuding the faint but unmistakable aroma of alcohol. Most people know that at that time of the night, in those circumstances, a breath test is inevitable.

But for some reason this thought did not seem to cross the minds of either Doone or Johnstone, who worked for the Land Transport Safety Authority. Indeed, when Mr Doone decided to get out of the car and approach the constable, thereby effectively stopping him from approaching the driver's side of the car, the possibility of his partner being breath-tested seemed to have been the furthest thought from his mind. His only intention, he has said, was to have a chat.

Apparently he didn't realise that the constable had every intention of breath-testing Johnstone, which is fairly routine in these cases. You'd think the country's top cop would have known that, and that he'd have insisted the constable do his job, just to make sure there were no lingering doubts as to his partner's fitness to drive.

But apparently that never featured in the little chat, which ended with Doone saying "We'll be on our way", or words to that effect, the rookie constable being too intimidated to argue with his boss and insist that the future Mrs Doone take the sniffer test.

Unsurprisingly, the report on the night concluded his actions had been inappropriate and unwise. He seems to think now that he ought not to have resigned, that it was the words incorrectly ascribed to him by a Sunday newspaper, and not his actions, that cast him in a bad light.

But this only confirms his unsuitability for the job. At best, he showed poor judgment. At worst, he abused his position.

I can't see how he could have kept his job, but it was a costly few drinks.