7 posts tagged “bar”

The next time would be the last time.

I've crossed many
thresholds for drunken and irresponsible behavior over the last few months.  Since Cherie left I have been hitting the bottle pretty hard.  To the tune of four to five nights per week.  These nights weren't just a "couple beers" type of nights.  I drove home every night!  Sometimes I wrecked in the ditch, sometimes a curb would pop out of nowhere and blow out my tires, sometimes there would be tire marks on some of the lawns of my neighborhood - and my car tires would be muddy.  Yep, I am a class A drunk.  I put your family's, your kid's, you parent's lives in danger most nights of the week.  Somehow in the my 17 year beer binging career I've never been able to catch a DUI.  Not proud.

You see
thresholds such as driving 100MPH with a case of beer in my belly, driving through yards, over curbs, spinning out into culverts, and countless blackouts (I did what last night?) just weren't enough for me.  Not proud.

I had just left the bar
after last call on this past New Year's Eve (actually 3am on Jan 1).  Rather than go home, my drunk ass decided to go get himself a hooker - yep a street walking whore.  What in the hell was I gonna do with a hooker when I'm this drunk?  My guy just doesn't work after a case of beer.  How drunk?  You might think 27 long necks, and 3 shots of American Honey and 2 shots of Redheaded Sluts would be a 'killer' night.  Unfortunately, if you subtract a couple shots and 3 or 4 beers then that would be a normal night for me.  Not proud.

So what did I do
with this hooker (we'll call her Kim)?  Well of course I invited her to my place in the suburbs - to watch football all day tomorrow (later today actually).  She says ok but she needs to get some clothes and some weed.  I'm ok with her smoking the plant but I would have nothing of it.

Black Out!
I next thing noticed was that my tongue and lips were numb and in my hand was a little glass pipe.  But each of the girls in this room had pipes too - and lighters - and there were baggies with little white rocks laying on the floor.  I asked what I was smoking and 'my hooker' said it was 'dope'.  I'm not up with the current drug culture so I asked what the hell is dope?  Her retort was that it was crack.  Yep crack cocaine - and I was smoking a shit load of it.  We proceeded to visit numerous places (crack houses) and ATM machines.  Some houses were scary.  Seriously!  Guns, drugs, guns, money, guns, girls, and guns everywhere.  Another threshold crossed.  Not proud.

Fast forward
to Jan 3 at around 5pm.  I decided that I'd had enough crack orrrr  was I out of money?  Wow.  I loved that stuff so much that I and 3 whores did it for almost 3 days straight.  No sleep, no food, but plenty of Mad Dog 20-20 (WTF?).  Of course the 4 of us shared my money too.  Not proud.

My life
returned to normal or so it seemed.  I went back to work, thinking about how my wild 3 day long ride would be quite the story.  Guilt and remorse were seeping from my pores.  I doubled up on my Prozac and Wellbutrin - because that was the common sense thing to do - of course.  I went back out to my watering hole on Jan 7th.  By midnight I wasn't feeling 'it' so I finally returned one of the calls from the hookers - god knows they only called 4 dozen times since the 3rd.  I went there again.  I was in love, nothing mattered, I was addicted, all I wanted was crack, I was a gonner.  We smoked crack for 2 non-stop days.  Not proud.

I was driving
home on Jan 9th at about 11am on westbound I-70 south of the new Colts stadium.  I realized that I had crossed too many thresholds, that I was a lost cause, that Circle Face would not know me, that death was imminent - mine or someone elses.  I thought about how I would seek help.  I knew that Cherie would use this against me in court, I knew that my employment would most likely be terminated, I knew that my family would be shocked, I knew that I loved crack cocaine.  I loved crack more than anything in the world.  More than Circle Face, more than life itself.  As I was driving home, cocaine crash in full effect I considered suicide.  Take off my seatbelt, drive 130MPH, crash into something cement.  Death was imminent.  Not proud.

For lack of a better
person to call, I called my daughter's therapist.  I was honest.  I am a fighter - not a quitter.  She told me to go to an undisclosed detox/rehab center.  I did.  I stayed in detox for 8 days then had the option of going home or going to a half-way-house.  I chose the latter.  I'm still here.  My stay at this half way house is open ended.  I currently go through therapy 4 hours per day and I attend at least 3 Alcoholics Anon (AA), Narcotics Anon (NA), or Cocaine Anon (CA) meetings everyday.

I do get to visit
my apartment and drive wherever I want.  My curfew is 10pm, midnight on Fri/Sat.  I share a place with 4 other drunks/druggies/pill poppers.  We have a 19in color TV and 3 bedrooms.  It is actually quite enjoyable.  For the first time that I can remember, I feel content.  I don't want anything that I don't have.

Why am I broadcasting
this less than flattering account of myself to the world?  Two reasons:

1. if I can clue someone else into the dangers of alcoholism then so be it
2. if I have to tatoo a sign on my head that says: "don't feed beer or crack" then I will in order to stay clean.

Show us a picture of your own handwriting.
Submitted by eclaire.

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I found something to do.  No, I don't smoke.  I borrowed it for picture purposes.

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