Not Funny.

Dear Tallulah,

So, I have been sitting on the conclusion to this memoir for a couple of days and feeling wholly guilty that I have left you hanging. You must trust me here...were I able to find any more humor in this story, I would write it. I'm surprised I found as much as I have so far. Truth be told, what humor has come across so far I have perhaps subconsciously inserted just to make the entire truth bearable....more palatable and worth remembering.

I did not have to pee out of the cage to get any one's attention. I can only say that in the next half hour, several small miracles occurred. I don't know how else to explain....someone was watching over me, good karma, maybe....small miracles....definitely.

As I seriously thought about shedding my underwear and just letting loose a much needed torrent of urine on the dance floor below, the lights in the club stopped pulsing, the music was lowered and everyone turned to the stage....a spotlight flitted across the crowd and settled mid stage, shining on a club manager/person/owner who had appeared with a microphone in hand.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, once again Rockin Robins would like to thank all of you who have participated in our annual AIDS awareness dance contest. We have raised a record amount of funds that will be donated to ACTUP (Aids Coalition To Unleash Power), this years beneficiaries and sponsor of tonites festivities. For our contest winners....please direct your attention to the cages above you....you have each won $500 and have all been declared first place honorees...."

All at the same time and amid a roar of hoots and whistles and clapping, our cages were slowly lowered to the floor of the stage. By some stroke of kindness, a club worker greeted each of us with towels as we stepped from our little prisons and walked center stage to receive an envelope that held $500. It did not escape my attention that I was the only one in my underwear. I was just grateful that the spotlight pretty much blinded me from having to look directly at anyone in the audience. To say I was mortified, well...mortification would have been something to downgrade to. I followed the other three 'dancers' off stage and we were shown a dressing room, I guess...at least it had my clothes there...neatly folded, in a small pile. My wallet was still in my pants pocket and still had $65 dollars inside. I was not in the mood to small talk and quickly dressed and hoped to find a back exit. I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to be home in bed. I wanted silence and the chance to recuperate. I was in a state of shock and more than likely could not process anything as I was also dealing with substantial alcohol poisoning. I was still sweating and my breath was no less potent than sniffing directly from a bottle of 90 proof vodka. I knew that when I got home and drank some water, I would throw up violently. I wasn't sweating because I was hot anymore, my body was in a fight to expel some of the massive amount of poison I had been consuming. As I slunk outside of the club I had to pass a bartender on a cigarette break. "I see you found your pants."

I ignored him and walked up the putrid alley quickly trying to escape the myriad of smells that were signaling my stomach to heave.

I was at a loss with myself. Yes, things turned out OK in the end, but I still had no clue what had happened to me in the last 5 hours or so...and the hours before that were sketchy at best. Prior to this night, I had probably experienced black-outs of sorts, but they happened at home. I would wake up some mornings and not know how I got to bed, thinking the last thing I knew from the night before did not coincide with putting on pajamas and crawling under the covers. Once I had to go to work in terrible pain and I didn't know what I had done. A trip to the ER confirmed I had broken three ribs...but I didn't know how. Often, after a night of drinking, I would have to call all my friends and "feel them out"...you know, try to gather information on the evening before....had I offended anyone, hit anyone, thrown up on anyone?....and I had to find out while trying to act like I remembered everything, just wondering if YOU had a good time. But now, I had aired my dirty laundry in public and I was flat out ashamed of myself. Up until now, I had managed to convince myself that I liked myself better when I was drunk and so did everyone else. There was no amount of denial or bullshit that could convince me that my evening in the cage was anything less than sick and a serious cry to change my habits.

I'd like to say it happened overnight...I woke up, attended my first AA meeting, found a sponsor, worked the 12 steps and found the light of a higher power shining brightly upon me. In actuality, I was sick as a dog for about 4 days...throwing up, shaking, sweating...and once I did feel better, guess what...I wanted a drink.

I have been sober for many years now, and it was not fun or easy or any of the things that the Hallmark channel would have you believe when they broach the subject of alcoholism on a movie of the week. I have had relapses....I've made my peace with them. I have also pulled myself back from the brink and have survived my own attempt to slowly kill myself too. My little opihi likes to say she is a work in progress....I like that. I too am a work in progress. I have made peace with myself.

I think this all started because you asked if you should bring wine when you come to visit. I'm sorry I got sidetracked...yes, please bring some wine, there is none here and no, it will not bother me if you drink. I am so looking forward to your visit and perhaps someday, I'll tell you some of the stories that paved my road to recovery.

Love you Tallulah,

Steve