My name is Andy and I am an alcoholic. Well, I was. Let's talk about drink. After you recover you have all the time in the world to talk about the thrill of the slow kill.
When I took a drink of Irish whisky it was like drinking pure liquid gold. I could even taste the goldness of the fluid as well as savor the aroma of the aged wood from the barrel it was aged in. It would caress my throat and fill my body with a lusty warmth.
You know it's love, no addiction, when you drink not for the high but for the taste, the flavor and how it bursts all the pleasure centers of your body.
Your fingers tingle and legs relax, all your muscles untense in a comfort no one else can give you. As I drank more and more I knew how to regulate my moods according to what I drank.
Wine kept me hyper and social, scotch made me mellow, rum & coke for the obvious sugar rush, which could also be obtained from Jagermeister, Goldschlager and the other liqueurs.
Bourbon killed my fears and inhibitions. I never would have been able to front a band if not for my bourbon buddies nudging me towards the microphone. Half pints in the parking lot before the show, that's all you need. There was always something about rye that always mellowed me out.
Vodka was stealthy in the way it would go invisible after mixing with just about anything; it would hide behind any juice or sweet beverage. I'd never realized how progressively pissed I got from the way it hid behind those sweet drinks. Positively lethal.
I'm not going to tell you any funny stories about things I did when I was drunk. Things seemed funny at the time, but now they're not. I never drank during office hours but there was no shortage of tempters and temptations.
I was a good drunk, maybe too good. A friend of mine who was a recovered alcoholic saw me putting it away one night at the club and decided to drive behind me when I drove home. He said I drove as if I was stone cold sober, never weaving or running red lights.
I should have been somewhat flattered, but instead I set too good an example of what a professional drunk is capable of. It made me feel guilty a few years later when I heard he lapsed back into alcoholism and died from alcoholic poisoning.
I didn't quit cold turkey - that's for suckers. I quit drink the same way I quit smoking, tapering off day by day. A little less each day until you realize you don't really need that junk to get through the day. You do less and less until it dwindles down to almost nothing at all.
I won't lie to you. I still have a bottle of Jameson's in the pantry, but it doesn't get much play these days. If you've really conquered your poisons never let them completely disappear. Always have them on hand to let them know they're gone, but not forgotten.
Artwork by Derek Yaniger.
