Drunk Again

I had just left campus, enraged and crying. On break from class, I stupidly left my MacBook in the classroom with some other students while I went outside to speak to someone. When I returned, my laptop was gone. All of my books and materials were still on the table. Everything except my laptop.

“I thought you said it was here!” I exclaimed angrily at my companion.

“They are here, look…” she said, pointing to some books on a rack.

“No, NO!! That isn’t what I was referring to! My Mac is gone!”

I searched for Dave and Rick, who were sitting with me at the table before it went missing.

“It was there, I swear!” said Dave.

I frantically searched the entire classroom. My teacher, returning from break and seeing my panic, had the class join in the search. No luck. I reported it to Campus Security, but didn’t hold much hope for its return.

Stephanie, my alto-sax playing classmate followed me after class. I was in a hurry to get to my car and I didn’t want her to see that I was crying.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Stephanie, I’m just so angry right now.”

I stopped at Fresh & Easy to grab something for the ride home. I hadn’t had a drink in almost 15 years. I thought I had this drinking thing pretty well in hand. Instead of purchasing the intended bottle of water, in my fit of anger, I picked up a bottle of wine. I don’t even remember what kind of wine.

I chugged it in the parking lot, heaving with sobs over the loss of my beloved Mac. I called it MacDaddy, my pride and joy. With my sole purchase, I was going to fight back against Bill Gates and the evil Microsoft. I saved for months and now it was GONE! I chugged some more until the bottle was empty. I opened the door and carefully placed it on the pavement; I didn’t want evidence in my car. I looked at myself in the rear view mirror before turning the ignition key. My mascara, so carefully applied that morning, was reduced to dark circles under my eyes.

I leered at my own reflection: “YOU look hot.”

I turned over the engine and decided to take the side streets home. Less than half-way there, the alcohol took over. I was weaving back and forth and, of course, speeding.

I made a sharp right down a collector street and narrowly missed a parked car. “Whoa! That was close!” I tried to slow down and get my bearings. It felt as though someone else was driving the car. Was there someone with me in the passenger seat?

“Slow down! You’re going to have a wreck. Why don’t you pull over and call someone?” the voice was saying to me.

SCREEEEEECHHH! The sound of metal against metal snapped me back to reality. My car had careened off the side of two parked cars, scraping the entire length of their sides.

My turbulent ride continued. Up ahead I saw a mother with a baby in a stroller walking the dog. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look of terror in her eyes as she saw my car aimed straight for them. She screamed something at me while jerking the stroller and dog to safety. “Oh God!” I cried, narrowly missing the three innocents.

I was no longer in control. Something other than me was driving this car. BAM! Finally my car struck another car, coming to its final resting point. Smoke gushed from underneath the hood in white waves and the engine made a hissing sound, as if it were telling me one last time: “Ssssssssseeeeeee…..I told you so!” Two police cars were nearby waiting for me. As soon as my car came to rest, they rushed over to my car, pulled me out and handcuffed me. One read me my Miranda rights while the other looked me over for any injuries.

I was thinking about calling my friend Kurt to represent me and get me out of jail. I could just hear him now: “Mrs. C!!! What happened to you???!!!”

I didn’t want to think anymore. I wondered why I finished that bottle, because I could sure use it now. Not to mention having to face my husband, Mr. AA himself. Yes, I really messed things up this time. I wondered if my marriage would even survive this. I didn’t want to go forward anymore. I wanted to dig a bigger hole in the backyard and bury myself in the dirt with my desert tortoise.

Just like that. Over 14 years down the drain over a lost THING. I felt so broken inside, defeated, a complete loser. All hope was lost. I couldn’t do anything right. I can’t even do sober right. And I sure as hell didn’t know if I could go back to the rooms and start over again. How could I? I knew they would all be whispering, talking. I was a failure, even as a recovering alcoholic. Would they ever really let me back in?

“Is there anyone here in their first 30 days of sobriety?”

God, how did this happen?

(And then I woke up....)