:::
I'd swirl a teaspoon of coke in two fingers of Scotch, drink it down. It was an unholy color. I'd leave rails out for myself on the table, so when I got too drunk to drink I'd crawl over there, bump. A couple of seconds later, look at me in the mirror. "How am I not drunk? I look fine?" The Cabanas had free ice, I'd make myself an ice bath and lay in it with my Scotch & cocaine. I never did that stuff at my nice little house. Never wanted to curse it. I was cursing myself.
I never missed work. Until I did. First a Friday then a Monday and work started calling me. Then Danny checked in, in person. Danny and I headed to a casino. "How do you get sober?" I turned to him there. He looked at me, said nothing. The binges get worse. The paranoia gets worse. The weekends get longer. Danny calls two weeks later.
"What's going on?"
"I'm fucked up and I want to stop," I say.
He has someone else on the line. He tells me to tell her everything. Then I'm on my way to Hattiesburg, Mississippi. A rehab clinic called Pine Grove. Danny had already talked to my wife and sister about it. The company paid in full for my three-month stay. I sobered up alongside doctors and judges. I dropped thirty pounds. I'm 16 years sober as of now. It was the best experience of my life. The first time I got to worry about myself. "I'm here to be fixed" I remember telling them. I think I mainly am.
::: very :::