Good Monday morning, all. Boy, do I feel refreshed. What a weekend. I’m writing this on Sunday afternoon, and I’m making a bold prediction that by the time you read this, Scottie Scheffler will have won his second Masters.
Either that or his wife goes into labor with his first child, and he rushes off the golf course to be by her side, and in between contractions, she says, “What the hell are you doing here? Get back on the course and make that money, you bum!”
Then Scottie runs back to the course, but it’s too late.
He renounces his faith, quits golf, and opens a Satanic gift shop in Dallas. Some kid will walk into the store looking for a flesh-binding candle and say, “Hey, didn’t you used to be Scottie Scheffler?”
And he’ll say, “Yeah, kid, used to be.”
As I said, I feel refreshed.
It’s been 334 happy hours since my last sip of alcohol. Thank you. I’m not a hero or anything. I’m just a guy who wants to make some changes.
To some, 334 hours without the sweet nectar of booze may not seem like a big deal. It’s just shy of two weeks. But to someone like me who has made alcohol a lifestyle for the last twenty or so years, it’s quite an achievement.
334 hours is not the longest I’ve gone without a drink as an adult. I went five months without a sip once and, in the process, got into the best shape of my life. But there came a day when my brain told me it was time for some drinks, and I went deep into the beers and stayed there for a few more years.
I don’t think I’m an alcoholic. I’ve seen “Leaving Las Vegas” many times, and while in my darker moments, I’ve thought about selling it all and running away for one last booze-cation, I have yet to drink a bottle of vodka in the shower.
On the other hand, I have been and always will be a huge fan of shower beers. Something about the warmth of the water contrasted with the crispness of a tall can of Coors Light and some music blasting in the bathroom makes me feel something I can’t quite describe.
That’s the issue right there. Many like to drink, but few actually love it. I love it, and there was a time when I couldn’t imagine my life without it.
I have a friend who isn’t a big drinker and, in our younger years, used to take advantage of my constant intoxication by encouraging me to be drunk dial men and leave racy messages on their voicemails.
Those made for some awkward mornings, but the thought of stopping didn’t cross my mind.
I told him not too long ago that if alcohol made him feel like it makes me feel, he’d never want to stop. He couldn’t understand what I was saying because everyone’s relationship with alcohol is deeply personal. His is casual; mine is a twenty-year marriage.
Before I get into the negatives about my drinking life, of which there are many, I’d like to reminisce over some of the positives, of which there are few.
I met all my best friends while drinking. With the exception of a few I met in high school when my fear of God kept me from the devil’s drink, I don’t have any friends with whom I haven’t been hammered. They’ve seen me at my worst and hung around. Without the booze, I don’t think our relationships would be as close.
I have a few dear friends who I have no idea when or where we met. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore as we’ve been through so much, but in my mind, they’ve always just been there, and I find that poetic. It's almost like our friendship had no beginning and, therefore, will have no end.
Doctors and psychologists would probably call the above defense for decades of boozing the mental gymnastics of a problem drinker trying to justify their consumption. Fair enough, but it’s the truth.
Now, the negatives are too numerous to mention. I could go on for ten thousand words just telling wild, drunken stories of heartbreak and failure. I do have many of them in my book, “Greatest Hits,” available for download here, but that’s where they’ll remain.
If I wasn’t the drinking enthusiast I am, I have no doubt I’d be financially successful. Over the years, I’ve thrown away dozens of opportunities because heading to the bar just sounded more fun. It was, for sure, but at what cost?
I’ve put my health in danger numerous times. My liver started leaking enzymes due to alcohol abuse, according to one doctor. During my most problematic drinking years, I had thinning hair, a big fat stomach, and bleeding gums due to passing out night after night and forgetting to brush my teeth. There are many more negatives…many, many more, but you get the idea.
In the last 334 hours, I’ve noticed a marked difference in my outlook on life. I feel energized, present, and confident that good things are coming. I’m better in the gym, my skin is clearer, I’m slimmer, and literally every aspect of my life has improved. So why can’t I stop thinking about an ice chest full of Coors Lights glistening in the morning sun?
Much like a schizophrenic, the visions of cold beers dancing enticingly will always be with me. I can resist for a time, but my pendulum will probably swing back to the other side, and I’ll undo all of the good work I’ve done. I’m sure there will be a time when I’m never fully sober again, instead opting for a Winston Churchill existence of Coors Lights, blood, toil, sweat, and tears.
But there’s a chance these 334 hours turn into 3,334, and then 33,334, and then the ghosts of beers past disappear from my field of vision, and I live the rest of my life as a sober nerd sipping hot tea at a bar reading a Joan Didion novel.
Hot guys will come up to me and try to buy me a drink, but I’ll send them on their way because I didn’t come to this bar to be harassed. I came here to be sober.
It might be time I hung up my spurs, so to all the bars in New Orleans, I apologize for my absence. If all goes to plan, I’ll never see you again, but when I jog by in the early morning with my over-forty running/book club and see patrons stumbling out into the fresh air of a new day, I’ll think of you fondly.
It’s not you, it’s me.
Until next time.
P.S. - Thanks for reading. That Joe sure is a card, haha. What an article. If you liked that, Joe just got an article accepted to Slackjaw, the premiere comedy publication on Medium.com. There will be many more to come, and if you can’t get enough of the biting satire on display here, check out Joe on Medium.com for even more hilarity.
Big news! You go, Uncle Joey! Here for it!