Mark Fell Over Laughing at the Fifth Step Mountain I’d Made From a Molehill – George M.

My name is Kat and I'm an alcoholic. Welcome to the Monday Night Blue Chips Speakers Meeting at the Nava Pub, where a member of Alcoholics Anonymous with one year or more sobriety tells his or her story. This reading is based on a passage from page 29 of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. Each individual in our personal stories describes in their own language and from their own point of view the way they establish their relationship with God. These give a fair cross-section of our membership and a clear-cut idea of what has happened in their lives. We hope no one will consider these self-revealing accounts in bad taste. Our hope is that many alcoholic men and women in our room tonight and listening later on aagluchipspeakers.org desperately in need will hear our speaker. And we believe that it is only by fully disclosing ourselves and our problems that any of us shall be persuaded to say, Yes, I am one of them too. I must have this thing. And now I get to introduce the speaker. Tonight, George M., also known as Big George, will be telling his story. I've known him almost the entire time I've been sober. The best thing for me about getting sober is the longer you're in sobriety, the bigger fellowship you get and you get to have these great friends. And George has become one of my friends that I know that I can call on any time that there's something going on. I do love what he has to share and so I cannot wait to hear more about you tonight that I don't already know. So come on in. My name is George. I'm an alcoholic. Good night. Thank you. I'm a little nervous. I don't even know why, you know. I've told my story many times over the years. And I came in here at 23, not a minute too soon, November 23, 1981. I picked up a white chip. Didn't even know what I was doing. I was just desperate. The night before, I had gotten... I'd actually tried to go five days without drinking. And a friend of mine from Georgia State was an alcoholic like me. He's been sober a long time now. He's my drinking buddy. Him and his girlfriend were riding around Stone Mountain. It was in November, a little chilly, and I was drinking Tab. If you can imagine that. It's a soft drink that I've been drinking ever since, by the way. And with a brief stint with Diet Coke. And I think I made it five days. And I just hated myself and hated what I'd been doing. I could not drink. If I took one drink, that was it. I didn't know where I was going to end up, what I was going to do. The blackouts were getting longer. The hangovers were getting worse and more horrendous. I mean, only another drunk can understand that. We know what it is to feel like it. To be sober. To be strung out or be a drunk. And, you know, tobacco. Anyway, I made it five days. And then, you know, I started having sort of like hallucinations. Audio hallucinations. The radio kept getting louder about stuff. And I thought, this is fucked up. So anyway, I told his girlfriend at the time, I said, you know, I need to go to the hospital. And she said, why? Her father was a colonel in the Salvation Army. And she hated AA. She'd seen drunks come through the house. You know, that's the last thing she wanted to talk about. She was a drunk, too. And she goes, well, you know, alcoholics taper off. And I said, I didn't know that. So she gave me a couple of aspirins. She was cooking dinner. It was about six in the evening. She gave me a beer. And I chugged it, of course, and took the aspirin. And I felt a little better. And so then we had dinner. We went to the local liquor store and got a case, a couple of bottles, you know, and really tapered off. So three in the morning, man, I'm like, hell, yeah, shit works, you know. So the next day, it was like, and one thing struck me about Bill's story was dragging his mattress down to a lower floor lest he bust out through the window sash and all. Because the horror of the next day is something I'll never forget. And it's, I'm not really worried about, you know, yes. I really like the way a friend of mine put this. It's like, I don't want the agains. You know, I can't go through that again, you know. And I'll never forget that day as long as I live. And that's what, that was my bottom. I looked in the mirror and I hated, I never hated anything as much as I hated me. I was horrible, you know. I had no, my spirit was dead. And I was shaken and just, I don't know what to do. So I called Peachford, you know, back then it was one of the hospitals. And I talked to a woman named Pat Schultz and she said, do you have any money? I was like, no. Do you have any insurance? No. And I'm a veteran. I could have gone to the VA and I don't even think about that. But she said, well, it was a Tuesday night and I'm going to be at the place called Biscayne. Do you think you can go just for today without drinking? And I said, lady, I'll kill not to drink today. I mean, I was just like, I was done. And so that night I went to the Biscayne room and it was crampacked. And believe it or not, people used to smoke in meetings back then. And everybody had an ashtray. And it was like, you couldn't see people because there was so much cloudy smoke. So you kind of walked in like this. And smoked. And you got your ashtray and your coffee and whatnot. And Pat was sitting in the very front. I never met her. And I said, and Chet Gee and a guy named Stan were chairing and leading the discussions. And I got, does anybody need to watch him? Yeah. And I just went up there and got one. It was like just, you know, automatic. It was like whatever that shit means, I want it. And, you know, but by that evening I was already starting to feel better. You know, the cycle was already starting to change. And I knew it. You know, we start feeling a little better. And two or three days ago, but I was a binge drinker. And, but it was something about going in there. I was like, I just can't do that again. And I've been dating this girl, you know, it was sick as shit. And I kept raising my hand. Oh, this girl, you know, this girl. And they finally said, why don't you sit down and shut up. And then we'll talk to you after the meeting. And I said, this woman, Pat Schultz. I said her last name. She told me to come here. She was in the very front. She's waving her arm. So that was the end of that. So that was my first meeting. And I saw some people in there I actually knew. And it was a very crowded meeting. It was a Tuesday night. It used to be called the young people's meeting. It isn't anymore because none of us are young anymore. So I said, well, you've had enough, Greg. And two friends of mine actually started that meeting. But to go back to where I'm from is I was born in Kennistown, Harlem. I was born in Kennistown, Harlem. I was born in Kennistown, Harlem. I was born in Kennistown, Harlem. I was born in Kennistown, Harlem. I was born in Kennistown, Harlem. I was born in Kennistown, Harlem. I was born in Kennistown, Harlem. I was born in Kennistown, Harlem. But they promised me to come back there. My father I used to live with my sister and she told me that my brother and umar would be there in the arm when they do live. And I'm sure he said that. Well, you've had enough, Greg, and two friends of mine actually started an um but to um go back to where I'm from is I was born in Kennistown Hospital, which is in Marietta. My father was a ex Marine and a engineer at Lockheed, and he lost that job and end up finishing out his career general Motors mom was a nurse and our head for sisters. Don't start crying yet. But I was the next the youngest. So. But I like to tell people that I was a feminist before the word was even invented. You know, I learned how to cook, clean, iron, sew, all that stuff. But anyway, I love my sisters. They're pretty remarkable. All but one. She's a bitch. But anyway, I'm sorry. You know, she's one of us, but, you know, whatever. Anyway, so I've got three older and one younger, one baby sister. And so I was born. And it's kind of cool, man, because if you go to Kennistown Hospital, it's like a little statue, a bronze statue of me as a baby. Can you believe that? Well, don't. So anyway, that's a bit of a lie. They're probably glad to get rid of me. It's a screaming kid. Get him out of here. So I grew up for a while. We lived in Marietta. And one of my first memories was, I mean, stark memories, was my mom crying and them fighting, and she was leaving. And she wasn't taking us. And that was not a good memory, man. That terrified me. All of it terrified me. Mom's leaving. Where the hell is she going? Is she moving us to this guy? And that was traumatic. And I didn't realize how much, you know, effect that had on me. But that's a big deal when you're five. So we left my dad. He'd been cheating on my mom. My dad was a sex addict and a rageaholic. And so we went up to my mom. My parents were from Blue Ridge, Georgia. You know, I've been there. It's beautiful. But when they grew up there, it was pretty rural. And we lived with my grandmother for like a year or two. I went to first and second grade up in Blue Ridge. And I liked it up there. It was different. And I remember they had these bowls of rice in the dining hall. Sweet rice and regular rice. And I was like, what the hell is this rice for? Because there was a lot of poor kids that had nothing to eat. Unless they went to school. Appalachia was very poor in a lot of areas. You know, people don't realize how poor it was up there. You know, people didn't have nothing. And my mom was trying to raise five kids and a two-bedroom apartment. And she was working two jobs. And she had nothing. She didn't have a college degree. And women back then, even with a degree, you didn't really, you know, you sat in the typing pool. That's how shitty they treated you. But she was barely making it, you know. And my father would come up every two weeks and come hang out with us. And he smoked like three packs a day. And I'd have really, you know, I love my dad. I don't want to see him. But he was a pain in the ass. He was so self-centered. I don't know where the hell I got it from. But it was just like, you know, it was just a stranger that would come up there and see us every two weeks. So finally, I think he had five brothers. And he was the youngest. And they kind of came down on him and said, you're going to raise some kids. You know, you can't just go run wild and do whatever you want. You've got five children. And so I think that, you know, they came to me and said, you know, you're going to do what you've got to do. And so we moved down to Doorville, Georgia, when I was going into third grade. And that was exciting. You know, it was like, you know, Doorville back then wasn't a big city. It still isn't. But it was, Buford Highway was two lanes. If you went to Norcross, you were in the sticks. You know, basically, Roswell, Dunwoody, all that. That was the sticks. And I started, you know, elementary school. And then I went to high school at Peachtree High School, which is in Chamblee, where they call it Dunwoody. And I hated that school. Because I felt like I was a piece of shit. I just had no self-esteem. And, you know, my father kind of, rubbed that in because he was so critical of all us kids. And I had learned, but there was a family of brothers that lived up around the corner of the Mullinaxes, and there was four boys. And they were being abused too, but worse than I was. And my dad was mainly a rageaholic and, you know, psychological abuse, which is bad enough, you know. Hypercritical. So I hated him pretty naturally. And even though we had some good times, we didn't have any good times together. It's kind of weird, but these boys that I grew up with, one was my age, one was, two were younger, and one was older. And they taught me how to be a man. Well, I guess I was about 12 or 13 when I started, 11 or 12 when I started hanging out with them and basically living in their house. And, you know, I learned, you know, healthy, you know, positive things, like stealing, and drinking beer, and staying up all night, and playing cards. And, you know, I learned, you know, healthy, you know, positive things, like stealing, and drinking beer, and staying up all night, and playing cards. And smoking, and, you know, stealing cigarettes, and other things like that, you know. And fighting, and that's what I thought being a man was, you know. And we talked about, you know, women, girls. And the more girls you had, the more of a man it made you, see. And the more you fought. So I grew up with these guys, and I did what they did. And that gave me a definition of what being a man was, and it was all wrong, you know. But I didn't know. And then I had my, when I was 13, my, one of my brother-in-laws, who was my older sister, next to the older sister, he left for Vietnam in infantry. And he left a five of a six-pack of Tallboy PBRs in the refrigerator. I was like, now looking back, I'm like, why the hell did he leave those? I mean, I wouldn't have done that. And I'd been out running, and playing, and everything like you do after school. And I came in hot and sweaty, thirst, kind of thirst. And she opened one and poured it in a glass, and she goes, here. I was like, I didn't fucking drink anything. You know, so I chugged it, and it burnt, man. I mean, it burnt, you know. But then something else happened. I felt like this feeling, you know, it was like this glow. And all the fear, and anxiety, and all that stuff just kind of went away. So I started, you know, acting goofy, and just, you know, I was already egotistical. Because I love the tension. And so I just won all this attention, and they were laughing at me, and it was funny, and cool. But I'll never forget that feeling. You know, Paul Newman, in a movie he did, called it that click. I think it was Cat on a Hot Tin Road. And I had that click. And then we, you know, ventured into drinking Boone's Farm. These are real high-class wines, you know. Mogue and David 2020. There was a Korean guy, nothing against Asians, but there was a Korean guy that ran a magic market right up at the corner of Flowers Road that didn't know you were supposed to ID people. You know, and we were like 13, 14. So we could buy cigarettes, and we stole the guy blind. I mean, we'd kill it with all this wine, you know, and he'd throw it, whatever. It was great, you know. Especially if you were a budding alcoholic. So we'd go to the woods behind that place and just drink all this shit. And I'll never forget, I think it was called Applejack Boone's Farm. It tasted good, but it made you reliance and sick. So that went on. And then, you know, some other assorted... Things that get you high came into play. And I remember a feeling of this one particular thing that has smoke involved with it. Feeling a loss of innocence. I was like, man, I've done that. Now I don't feel innocent anymore, you know. But anyway, I mean, you know, I was on my path. And so high school, my parents, their fighting was getting worse and worse. Worse and worse. My oldest sister. And my next... And my sister just older than me. My oldest sister went to North Georgia. And then another sister went to Georgia. And then my sister, Mary, who had the boyfriend in Vietnam. They ended up getting married and moving up to Copper Hill, Tennessee. Not a pretty place back then. But her husband, Jerry, I really loved the lawn. And I was really close to my sister, Sissy. Well, I had name names. My name is Buzzy, by the way. But don't call me that. But anyway... No, you're shit. But... So halfway through my 10th grade year at Peachtree, which I hated that place because there was all these rich kids. And there was cliques, you know. And I hated that, man. Because I didn't... I wasn't worth nothing, you know. But I did play sports. I played football. I wrestled. And then I eventually got into martial arts, which I stuck with for quite a while. And so my parents finally... My mom finally got the gumption to leave my dad. Finally, you know. Three sisters were gone. So it was me and my baby sister. And we were leaving. I remember walking out the door and my dad going, You're leaving me too? And I was like, Hell yeah, I'm leaving you. I mean, you know. Why would you even ask that? Because abusers do that kind of shit. You know. He was a caretaker abuser, but more abuser. And I was like, Yeah. See ya. You know. And we moved over to Manor Ridge Apartments in Doorville. And it was like... For the first time in my life, I was 15. I felt freedom. I felt like... I'll never forget this. I woke up. I was like, Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I finished out my 10th grade year at Sequoia High School in Doorville, which I really liked because most of the kids there were lower middle class. Or middle class, but they weren't rich. And they ruled the school, and it was fucking awesome. They were just cool. There were a couple of cliques, but everybody was trying to beat them up. Nobody liked the cliques. And I decided I didn't want to play football there. You know. Because I'd be playing against some of my best friends at the pizzeria, but it didn't matter. Because I got into some other extramural things. And I met my first love there when I was a junior in high school. I'm going to back up to the summer at the end of my 10th grade year. I remember waking up to a song called Bob O'Reilly by The Who. And if you've never heard that song, it's a really amazing coming out song, particularly for a young guy. And it's one of the big verses in this teenage wasteland. It's Bob O'Reilly at the very end. It's just an amazing song. And I remember how I felt like this joy that I hadn't felt probably since I was a little little. Because I was free. I was free of my dad. And my mom was free. And my little sister. And it was just wonderful. Then my junior year, I fell in love with this girl. Who was a little girl. She was a little girl. She was a little girl. She was a little girl. She was a little girl. She was a little girl. I'm sorry. Who was a Puerto Rican girl from the Bronx. Actually, I was taking martial arts at Fondue Plaza and working at McDonald's across the street until about 10 and then I would hop the fence and come back home. Because it was our apartment was right behind that McDonald's still on beer nightline. And I ended up getting fired from there after two months for eating too many big macs. That's a true story by the way. But they didn't say I couldn't. And they made you watch these videos about where their potatoes came from and all this Happy Horse shit. And I would just sit there and eat like six or seven. Because I was hungry. hungry. You know, Jethro Bodine. And so that lasted about two months. I guess they realized their profit margin was dropping or something. And I remember hopping the fence. I was walking up towards my apartment, which was at the end. There was an apartment building right here and this girl was standing up there and she had these big curls in her hair. And she was like, what the hell is that? You know, when you're from the South, you know, most girls, you know, I mean, you're Southern. I mean, we all, not that they all were the same, this would be looking Southern women, but you know, blonde hair, red, you know, that was kind of like more, I just never seen anything like her. And she was Puerto Rican and she was from Brooklyn. And so we didn't have a lot in common. But I was just enthralled with her, you know. And the drinking, I actually went through a period of time where I was doing... doing really good in school, and the drinking kind of had a, I just wasn't really into it that much. And, of course, we're in this tour, you know, she wouldn't have anything to do with me for like six months, and I lost a bunch of weight, and I was really, I was teaching martial arts in front of my building. So I said, fuck it. You know, I quit, I quit chasing her. So then her little gang of girls would come walking by, and then walking by, I went, what the hell's going on? Anyway, we got together, and for about a year and a half, and it was wonderful, great experience. And they moved to Chicago, and I remember I got really depressed, and here came Mr. Alcohol. Yeah, it's like time to drink, and some other things that you put in your mouth, and it makes you feel different. And so that kind of geared up again. Then I decided, what happened? You know, and I'm not proud of this, but my mom had a 66 die of the dart, and we were, a friend of mine named Dale Myla, who had played football for a second. I had real long hair, though, down to his ass. And he was just a really good friend of mine, and we were in this car, and we had a bottle of Canadian Mist stuck in the console of this, if you've ever seen a die of the dart, you know, that you know, it had like red vinyl interior. And I'm shit-faced drunk, and we're doing donuts behind a door of a police station. I mean, genius, you know. And I remember there was this cop, the head cop there, Bill Anner, I'll never forget this, and he was a friend of mine, and he reached in the car and just turned the key off. He goes, Buzz, what the hell are you doing? So, he kind of had to give me a DUI at the time I was 17. And so, my mom and my sister came and got me out of jail, out of the drunk tank. That's one of several times that happened over the course of years. And we cut a deal with the judge, you know, because my mom didn't have any money. And I said, well, all my buddies have joined the service, you know. I've been wanting to join the Army, you know. And he goes, well, if your mom will sign for you, I'll sign for you. And I said, well, if your mom will, you know, get rid of this DUI and you just go into service. And I was like, because I wanted to, you know, I wanted to get the hell out of there. Led Zeppelin had a song called Going to California, and I wanted to go to California, you know. And so, I figured, and a friend of mine, I'll call him a friend, he kind of like ripped me into going to the Army, and Jeff Robinson. And so, but I wanted, but the easiest path to get to Fort Lauderdale, California, which is in my array, was to go become a meteorologist, which is what I did. And I took this test, and it was like a science test, and I scored wrong, and I have no idea how. And so, I got to go to meteorology school in Fort Sill, Oklahoma, it's the artillery battalion. So, I go to boot camp, and drinking, everybody's drinking. I remember, you know, after four weeks of boot camp, they'll let us come home, which is kind of stupid. It was Christmas time, they'll let us come home for ten days in the middle of boot camp. And so, I found out we had liquor, and, you know. Assorted drugs in a friend of mine's car. We're driving around, and it was just like everything revolved around, you know, partying, and doing that kind of stuff. And, you know, I got away with, you know, there were so many times I should have gone to prison, you know, for some of the shit I did, you know, like so many other people. But God really does take, watch out for fools and drunks, but only to a point. You know, you only get so many chances, and I truly believe that. I was very careful. I lived long enough to get sober. So, the Army was kind of a blur, and I did my job, and when we'd go to the field, we'd have to set up these weather stations, send up a huge balloon with a radio transmitter on it, and figure out, because what we did was we did corrections for the big guns behind us. We gave them this information, they made corrections, they have satellites on it now, and then in front of us was the infantry. So, it was good to have an M-16 with you, you know, in case they came through the infantry, you could shoot. I never was in combat, though, by the grace of God. But all my drill sergeants had been airborne rangers and shit like that, and they told us some interesting stories, scary, and I'm glad I hadn't been there. So, I get out of the Army, and I have the GI Bill, so I can go to college, and I started going to school at Ducat College, and started working at bars, because I was big, and, you know, had learned this stuff in the Army, and I'd done a lot of stuff in the Army, and I had done a lot of stuff in the Army, and I had done a lot of stuff in the Army, and I had done a lot of stuff in the Army, and I had done a martial arts thing, and all the guys that used to pick on me in this neighborhood were now wanting to be my buddy, you know, especially when you work in a bar near a bouncer. They were all buying you drinks, and you're the man, you know, and so, that wasn't good for my ego, unfortunately, and we would leave. It was a place, Pogo, as I worked at, me and Tim were talking about, and I was, if you can believe this, I was one of the smallest bouncers there. You know, the biggest, one of my best friends, he was 6'10", or 6'11", Jackson State, you know, these other guys were freaking humongous. And Pogos is a very large place. And so we had nine bouncers that worked on a Friday night. And it was a lot of fun, man. I mean, you know, and I wasn't really a fighter. I mean, I wasn't really a redneck like some people we know. But I mean, I wouldn't run from a fight. But it was like, that wasn't why I was there for us. I was just there to have a good time, you know. And people would like, it's amazing, people would like, you know, come in the men's room for a minute and then have stuff, you know, tequila, whatever, at all. And so that was my thing, you know, and every now and then you had a break or fight. But there were a brawl. I remember one time, and I'll move on past this, but the football team from Georgia came in one night, and just so happens the same night, Tech's football team came in. And they were at different parts. This is a huge place. And the Tech guys were down here, and their girlfriends, and the Georgia guys were up here. And it was like, and we're on alert. We're like, man, if anything happens, it's going to be serious. You know, these guys are fucking badass, you know. And so back then, they served beer in glass pitchers, big ones. Trust me, I remember. And glasses, you know, so you'd pour your beers, you know, that kind of thing. And about one in the, no, about 1230 at night, a glass of beer went flying from the Georgia group over to the Tech group. And they saw it, man, it broke. And I was in a standoff with this linebacker, and I thought, I'm fixing to die. But somehow, we managed to calm them down. I think we just kept telling them, the girls were looking at you, and they wanted to be with you, and all that. But we said, calm their egos down, and nobody got killed. So anyway, I drank my way out of that job, and I still managed somehow to go to class, although I'd be shaken usually. And I finished up my course up at DeKalb, and just started working in seedier and seedier places. You know, worked at a place called Uncle Tom's. It was a biker bar, and I wasn't a biker, and I almost got killed there. That was wonderful. Four bucks an hour. You know, just stuff like that. It was just getting more and more progressive. And I had a real bad car wreck in 1980. I had a, my dad helped me get a Dodge Challenger. And back then, that was a muscle car. It would haul ass. And it was more car than I needed. And I've been working all day, and somebody gave me a certain kind of pill. One night, with my drinking on the way home, I fell asleep. Hit a telephone pole, going about 60, dead on. And the two things that happened, the thing that caused the wreck was being drunk, and passed out. The thing that saved my life was being drunk, and passed out, because I was so limber that it didn't break. It messed me up, but it didn't almost, it didn't kill me, obviously. And my friend Greg was thinking about becoming a police officer. So he took me to Brown and Brown, the big storage place where the wreckers go and take cars. And he wanted me to see that car. This is two weeks after the wreck. And I fainted. And that thing was a big V, and the engine was sitting in the passenger seat and it was torn to pieces and he goes, see that blood in there? And the snapped steering wheel? That was where your nose was. Your face. And, um, you know, by the grace of God. I lived. And that, you know, and more and more of my friends would kind of just stay there and just live there. And more and more of my friends were kind of just staying away from me. Family, it was getting worse between me and my mom because I was stealing from her and stole her car one night, broke her accident. She didn't have any money. And I'm just being this guy who just, I'm a drunk. And so life is getting more and more desperate. And I finally got to the place where, and my blackouts were getting longer and longer. The longest blackout I ever was like, this is right before I quit. We're up in hell on drinking in October, Oktoberfest. And I drank myself sober, but I was coming in and out of consciousness. Drank myself sober. It's crazy, only an alcoholic can do that. I thought I was sober, but I remember I blacked out and then I come to you in the middle of a huge bar and brawl. And then I blackout and I'd be somewhere else. And then I woke up though, underneath a truck behind the Havisham County Police Station. And it was freezing cold. I had like a white beater t-shirt on with blood and jeans and boots. And I don't know where I was. And I started walking and they had like a place where they were playing bingo. I can't remember the county seat of Havisham County, but I went up to get a hamburger. This is really sad, so you can cry if you want. But I'm eating this hamburger and the mustard's running down my arm. It's really tragic. You know, and this little kid, I thought, well, I thought I was bleeding. Something was wet on my leg. I looked down and the little kid was squirting me with a squirt gun. I'm like, what the hell are you doing? I was the victim, you know, obviously. I was like, get the hell out. It was like a gnat. I'm like, get the hell away, man. He's squirting me with a squirt gun. Damn, kid. But anyway, you know, a cop came up and he goes, you know, where do you live? I said, in Atlanta. I was basically staying with these people who didn't want me there. And managed to talk these four young guys that were closing down a store to driving me back to Atlanta, to Buckhead, Brookhaven. And I lied the whole way. Telling them I was going to give them all this money and booze was all lies. And, you know, but I was just going. And I personally was a friend of mine. I always had the horse shit, so they wouldn't beat the hell out of me. And we get to working at the Buckhead Cinema Draft House, which is, I think, the Roxy now, whatever. And I said, I don't have any money, but I got some wine. I got a mess. Anyway, they leave. And so up, I get up to the place where I'm with Bill and Nancy trying to, I tried to quit. I made a banging effort and couldn't. And that's when I hit my true bottom and came in. And I was like, if I do this anymore, I'm going to shoot myself. And I remember that thought vividly. I knew I would do that because I couldn't take it anymore. I just could not take it one more day. So anyway, I'm in a sobriety. I'm at the Biscayne Room. And they used to have a thing at Biscayne where they would do a three-day ordeal for about the first couple, two, three years I was sober. And anybody could come in there that was a drunk, man or woman, and stay there for three days. And we'd clean you up. And you'd go to meetings. And we'd give you this called Maggie Concoction, who ran the place, Maggie Harrison. It was orange juice, yeast, for some reason, and honey. And we'd give that to them. I guess it was to make you sick enough. Do we even want to have another drink? I don't know. But I stayed with people constantly, constantly. And there was one night I stayed with a guy. I was about six months sober. And his name's Rusty Jay. Everybody knows Rusty. And I was 12-step Rusty. I stayed on the couch while he scared the fuck out of me for three days. Pardon my language. He's patient. Third and fourth. I didn't know what his deal was, but I was scared. He was coming off like six different drugs, medications, and he had other issues. And so, but he stayed. And I remember getting my first year. One went to halfway houses. Man, we did all kinds of stuff, man. We just constantly service, do this. I was just doing whatever the hell I was told to do, man. I just did it, you know. Because I hated alcohol so bad for what it had done to me. My mind was gone. I could barely write my name. I shook internally for about nine months. I quit shaking outside after about two or three weeks. But I remember shaking internally. Trying a lot of cigarettes. You know? It was bad. But anyway, people like Mike Kerbo and Hal Collier and Hal Calhoun and Hal Foster and all these people, man. Just, Billy B. I mean, we're there. Jerry Benefield, one of my dearest friends, you know. And they were just Steve Rumer. You know, we were sitting in the back of the Biscayne room until two, three, or four in the morning talking. And that saved me. You know, y'all saved me. It was the people that saved me in the beginning. Because I needed to know that y'all. I felt the way I did. And I was so terrified of everything anyway. Because you took the alcohol away. There was a scared little dude. Man, I was. I was big, but I was terrified. Anyway, I remember my first four-step. It was three pages long. That's about all I can remember, really. And there was one thing in there. I'll never forget this. My sponsor, Mark. I had two sponsors, Doug Lauer and Mark Truitt. And Doug's passed on now. Doug was an old acid head from 14th Street that had Donald. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. I had a friend. But he turned out to be one of the spiritual, wise people I'd ever met in my life. And he saved my life. I could be crazy as shit. And I was. My first year or two. I was batshit. But I could tell him anything. And it was cool. He was just like, yeah, I understand. And I needed that. I didn't need a hard ass. I got what I needed. So I did my first, this fifth step with Mark. And it was one thing. And it was a molehill that I'd made in this huge mountain. And it was something I did when I was drunk. And it was so out of character for me. But I was in a sordid place. I did something kind of sordid, you know. Well, I thought I did. And I didn't really remember, but I thought I did. And so I tell Mark this thing. And I'm like scared to death. And he falls over laughing. And I'm like, what the fuck, man? This is serious. This is a big deal. You know. And he goes, listen to this. And then he tells. And he tells me this thing that the mind held in comparison. I was like, I was just aghast, you know. I mean, this was really, you know. Anyway, so I'm not going to go into what it was. But you can just imagine. So, but it was like that did something to me. You know, I shared that part of me. And I was like, you know, I was in so much pain. It was like, I have to do this, you know. And this came back then. You work the steps. When you did what you were told to do, you didn't, you know, you didn't know when to flop house. Trust me, you know. And. I used to have a guy that used to have counselors out here in Roland B. He was, I think, a marine drill instructor. We'd come in here. If you were laying down that thing, you weren't laying down long. And Maggie was like that at this camera. And so, here comes my first year. Well, I went on and kept working the steps, you know, looking at my character as much as I could because I was so screwed up. I mean, you know, I mean, I know what my character defects are. I'm lazy as hell. I lie. You know, I'd say things to pump myself up because I don't feel like I'm worth a shit. You know, I was always hitting on women because it made me give me some self-esteem. You know, anything that would give me, made me feel better than what I felt like, you know. And that can happen today. I'm not hitting on women. But, I mean, the feeling, you know, things can be going great. I have a bunch of money in the bank and all that kind of thing. And what? And. I'm not lying. Truth-o-meter. Truth-o-meter. But, anyway, it's part of the disease. And I've got to remember, that's why I keep coming back. Because this disease is lethal, progressive. And it will not, it will not go away. It's never going to go away. I might, I might say, you know what, man, I'm sick of it. Or whatever. And I've done that for periods of time when I just didn't get to meetings or I did something else. And it was like I started getting really, really miserable. How I used to call it, stark rave and drunk. Because I get, I get bad shit. You know, without, you know, a solution to this dilemma, you know, then I'm, I'm hopeless. And to drink at some point was, it seemed just as a natural as taking a breath. And I've never, I haven't done that, you know, since I've been here since 81. I haven't, alcohol hasn't crossed my lips. Except once, accidentally. I was at a Jimmy Buffet concert and I ran out of Diet Coke and some girl handed me a drink or something. Because this doesn't have alcohol in it. It was a Bartles and James. And this shit did have alcohol in it. And I took a chug. I went, whoa. Because I remembered that feeling. And I said, I can't drink that. And I almost bought to crying. He goes, you mean to get drunk? No, then forget about it. So I did. I didn't worry about it. I mean, I'm not going to make a huge big deal out of something that was an accident. You know? And if I was going to go get drunk, it wouldn't be that. You know, it would be something else. And I'd be dead, probably. Most likely. So my first year came up. And I'll try to wrap it up. But it was. No way to describe it. Your first year for everybody. It was just magical. It was just. You know, the place was packed. Not because it was me. It was because it was birthday night. And I was like. I had a year. I think I was the only one sober. I can't remember. But my sponsor, Doug, gave me my chug. My family was there. Except my dad. He had called. And I wanted to know if he could come. Because my uncle. I almost forgot this part. Alton had been sober at that point about 19 years. He was a grandpa down. Out at the terror club. Alton M. And he's the one. I called him to borrow some more money from him. For another DUI. And he goes. Well, you didn't pay me for the last one. He goes. By the way. You know. They have young people in AA. And I was like. How dare you. I live with my mom. And everything I own is in a little bitty box. But how dare you. Suggest I go to AA. This work is over. And so I tell my story. At his. One of his birthdays. When I was six months sober. Scared to show this. And. But I remember sitting. I told my dad. He said he was proud of me. And it was a big deal. And so my mom. And all my sisters are there. And my mom's. You know. She's still leery. She don't quite trust me yet. But it was huge. And I remember. I got that. I got that blue chip. And it was like. It was amazing. To predate that. Every chip I got. Except for my white chip. Up. You know. Silver. Red. Yellow. Green. Up until my blue chip. There was a woman named Mary Ann. Mary Ann Day. Tall. Redhead. Good looking. It was. A dance here. I was about three months sober. Maybe six months. And I was scared to dance. Because I didn't dance. I was drunk. And she goes. Come on. Go dance. Dance. No. No. I'm good. I'm good. And finally a slow dance came on. And we slow danced. And you couldn't get me off the floor after that. I mean. Because it was just. I wasn't hard. Then. You know. So every chip. She would give me my chip. And she'd go. Just wait until you get a year. You just wait until you get a year. And I'm like. Hell yeah. So. I mean. But that was God doing. You know. That was God working through her. And so I get the year. And Doug gives it to me. And she was married to my best friend. I was like. Well that kind of sucks. But it didn't matter. Because it was just the way it worked. And. And you know. The thing about. You know. People who have. 20, 30, 40, 50 years sober. It's because they didn't drink. And they didn't die. But. But I've known people. And I've been to this place. Where I was suicidally depressed. Because I have suffered from depression. And. Thank God for good medications. And I'm not going to go way into that. But you know. I wasn't ready to kill myself. At nine years sober. Ten years sober. Because of depression. And anxiety. But. A friend. A good friend. A big Carl said. You know George. There's a lot of higher powers out there. And doctors can be higher powers. And I found a doctor that saved my life. Without. You know. I wouldn't get a drink or nothing. But I would. Get away. I didn't want to live anymore. And it had nothing to do with the steps either. I was just not on the playing field. Well. The steps. Are designed to. Deflate my ego. To a point where. The light. The sunlight of the spirit. Can enter me. And work through. But I've got to give it away. You know. Because. It's like a dam. If you just stop it. You know. Okay. I've got it. I'm good. It'll fade away. I've learned that the hard way. You've got to. You've got to be able to. Sit down with somebody who's hurting. And I'm sober. I'm sober from a lot of addictions. You know. I'm sober from eight different addictions. That's what's been revealed to me. Like Bill. Talked about. He's a. He talks about it. Since I've been sober. And I'm not going to talk about them. But I mean. They were just. Where my path led me. And. But if I hadn't gotten sober from alcohol. None of that would have happened. Because I would have been dead. So. It was just. You know. God. You know. Showing me. Helping me grow in those areas. But. So. There's a lot of things. I can sit down with somebody. In a lot of different areas. And share with them. And give them strength and hope. Because of my experience. That if I hadn't gone through that. I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it. It's like. Going up to a heart surgeon. That had a. You know. Had someone pass away. And go. Man. I don't know how that feels. That happened to me. I can't do that. Because I'm not a heart surgeon. But I'm an alcoholic. And a drug addict. And I've been through these other things. And I've been through the depression. And. So. My path just takes me. Where it needs to take me. And. But I've got to. I just trust God. That. And it's. I've got to remember. This is a day. And. And. You know. Somebody said something real poignant. Not long ago. He said. You know. I can't stay. I can't stay clean. On yesterday's shower. I can't stay sober. On yesterday's sobriety. I mean. It's a good thing. It's the experience. You know. And. And it. And it gives me more internally. But what am I doing today. To enhance my sobriety. And there's things I do. On a daily basis. You know. And when I've gotten away from those things. Even if I didn't drink. You know. Other things will take its place. And. And. And that's where. I can get in big trouble. That it is. It's not a. There's no part of this. It's spiritual. It's a spiritual program. You know. It's designed for us. To get closer. In my opinion. To my higher power. Which I call God. You know. And. My first higher power. Was the group. Then it was this huge oak tree. That was up in Alacola Falls. But. It came back to being the group. And then I just. Slowly developed. A relationship. And I didn't even know what it was. But I knew it was. I knew it was good. I knew it was good. And. And I needed God. Good orderly direction. Because I had none. And. Y'all. Say. You know. If it wasn't for this program. I wouldn't be here talking. I would have been dead at 23. Or soon thereafter. And. I wouldn't. I've had so many. Cool. Fun. Life experiences. I mean. Too many to even count. You know. Just. You know. It's been unbelievable. But it's been really. Really painful too. There's been days. When I've cried my heart out. You know. For different things. And. Finally. My both. My parents are gone now. My mom and my dad. Losing my mom. Almost killed me. Because I was real. Real close to my mother. I don't know if it's a southern boy thing. Or if it's a. I'm part Scottish. And American Indian. And. It didn't matter. My mom was wonderful. She. She saved us. I mean. She was the one who gave us love. In the house. And. For that. For two years now. I was in so much pain. And I couldn't get over the grief. But I finally got in touch with it. And. Um. It's hard. Why it's hard. You know. The program is simple. It's hell. I mean. All you have to do is work steps. But it's hard. Because our ego and pride. Doesn't want us to do it. It's like. I don't want to look at this shit man. I mean. It makes me. I mean. It's ugly. Some of it's really ugly. You know. But. It's the only way. I have to take inventory. And then. Then ask God to take away. These things. That I'm driven to do. And it's funny. Whenever that happens. Good things just seem. That's where it comes in. It's just. To me. It's just. You know. The way of the spirit. And. You know. That's really about it. And. And I've made so many friends. I still go to the Biscayne. And. God. I mean. I was really nervous. Because I thought there was going to be. Really cramp acting here tonight. And you know. That's the ego. And you know. I was like. Oh shit. People are going to be calling me out. Or whatever. But it's like. It worked out exactly. The way it's supposed to. As it always will. You know. Whether. Whether I'm okay with it or not. You know. It's the. You know. The universe. Really is unfolding. Exactly. The way it's supposed to. And that gives me peace. And it gives me serenity. And it gives me hope. Because this is hope. And it's. It's saved me in every way. You can possibly imagine. So thank you. Appreciate it. Thank you George. I appreciate you telling your story. Meteorology school. Really. Yeah. You. Damn. Too good. Okay. Well thanks. I'll make sure I have my umbrella.