In cinema, tragic events are heralded by visual cues and musical crescendos.

When the movie’s antagonist commits to a final course of action, chooses a direction that will lead to ruin, the audience knows all along what is about to befall him.

Tragedies in real life don’t work that way.

When Shanda Munn got into her car four years ago after partying the Friday before finals week – when she pulled away from the curb on a drive that, in just a few minutes time, would result in the taking of a life – she didn’t foresee what was about to occur.

No ominous music led the way. Only the silence of a dark, crisp December night.

The sequence must have seemed almost routine. Walk out the door. Get in the car. Turn the key. Shift into drive. Head toward home.

Alone, each action must have seemed small and insignificant. No one at the party protested. No one second guessed.

But as Shanda will tell you, it’s the simplest of decisions, the ones that you write off as unimportant, that can have the biggest impact.

If you haven’t done so yet, read through Shanda’s account of the events that took place four years ago. It starts on the front page.

It’s a story worth reading. A story worth knowing. A story worth examining, so that each of us can strive to choose a different course of action when faced with similar circumstances.

Once you’ve finished, read the front-page story right next to it. You’ll discover that nearly 150 people have been cited for OWI this year alone. And that’s just those who were caught, cited and arrested. How many more made it home safely that night? More importantly, how many will do it again?

By getting behind the wheel, intoxicated individuals are making a bet. It’s a bet they may win for a night, a week, a year or even for their whole lives.

Or it’s a bet they may lose. And if that moment comes, there won’t be any warning.

That’s what is so important to understand about Shanda’s story.

Not every character in every narrative experiences a movie moment, an instant where the right decision and the wrong decision hang in delicate balance – where the choice is obvious to the audience.

Most real life tragedy doesn’t stop for a second thought until it’s already too late.

There are no crescendos. No music to signal the impending disaster.

Just the silence of the night. The turning of an engine. And the final, horrible shattering of glass that accompanies a fatal crash.

Don’t wait for a big, climactic decision. It won’t come.

But the little decisions, they can make all the difference.

Call a taxi. Find a couch. Or walk.