A 16-year-old's first drink of slow gin—bought with a five-dollar bill and a fake prescription—sets the stage for a life spent jumping out of reality. Bob W. describes the paradox of the late-stage alcoholic: hating every drop of liquor while needing it just to sustain his physical life.
After years of evading responsibility by joining the Army during WWII and later watching a successful business slide through his fingers he hit a bottom defined by the total loss of self-respect. He recounts the turning point in a 'nuthouse' waiting room where three men drove 700 miles just to tell him they understood. Bob warns against 'miserable sobriety' and the danger of working the program on one's own terms arguing that the Big Book's promises are not extravagant but guaranteed if the steps are followed painstakingly.
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