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I was at a meeting once where a guy shared his story of experience, strength and hope for about 45 minutes. During his story, he mentioned that most of his early drinking happened in the woods near a local golf course, and that he often times thinks about how him and his friends would just lob their cans, bottles and other trash out onto the course for somebody else to clean up.
When he got done sharing his story, the chairperson opened it up for other people to share. An older dude raised his hand and said that he’d been working as the head groundskeeper at that course for 40 years now, and he always wondered who the a******s were who had left all those beer cans and bottles behind without any thought of who had to clean them up.
The guy was telling the truth, but he laughed and said he could never be mad at another alcoholic for leaving behind a bunch of trash because he thinks all of us probably have done the same thing.
I know I have. When I think about the wreckage of my past, I usually mean it in the figurative sense—the unhealthy romantic relationships, the bad behaviors at work, the toxic friendships, etc.
But I left behind a whole lot of actual trash, too. I definitely puked roughly 1,000 times in all sorts of places, but I think I usually got to the bathroom first. It’s still a pretty gross thing to constantly have happen at other peoples’ houses, though.
I also know I would eat and leave behind food and used dishes, without ever offering to clean up after myself. Your house was my house.
I also played a lot of very messy drinking games, usually beer pong. I don’t ever remember once cleaning up the table or the floor or anything else. I remember once getting invited to a house party that had about 30 people there, and it got out of control. I did 50 percent of the stuff that made the party go off the rails, and encouraged others to do the other 50 percent. We were throwing half-full beer cans across the room, and there was a huge tub of a mystery concoction of liquor and juice. People were scooping up cups full of the liquor, and when it got down near the bottom, a few people started lighting up cigarettes and ashing them right into the backwash at the bottom.
I may or may not have dared a guy to drink the last half inch of fluid and cigarette butts at the bottom, and he did it. He started swallowing as much as he could, and then the rest poured out around his mouth and all over the counter and floor of the apartment. Now, this was a regular old college apartment, with five people who lived there. It must have been repulsive in that place the next day.
Did I offer to clean anything up? Nope. I laughed my ass off and went home and didn’t think twice about it. Ugh, I can’t even imagine if somebody exactly like me showed up at my house these days and behaved like I did when I was in active addiction.
But hey, the one thing I can say as I look back is that I never left behind a bunch of trash at any golf courses. Well, not that I remember, anyway. Maybe I do owe a golf course superintendent or two an apology!
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:
NEWCOMER: My wife told me I have two major character defects.
SPONSOR: Really? What are they?
NEWCOMER: She says I don't listen and something else.
(Credit: AA Grapevine, from J.D., Big Lake, Minnesota)
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