New Jersey, a farmhouse with blue tarps lashed to a slate roof. Dave F. grew up walking on eggshells, watching his father’s "happy hour" and believing there was magic in the bottle. He spent his youth as a loose cannon, smuggling dope in deodorant sticks to Bermuda and hitchhiking to Needle Park in New York City, only to be dropped off at school by a truant officer who had no idea his passenger was stoned to the gills.
The wreckage peaked in Arizona, where Dave lived in a haze of peyote and booze, eventually ending up in a coma after a fight left his skull crushed. He returned home as a ghost in a full-head cast, learning the steps through "direct immersion" while mixing concrete for a crew of sober masons. After a detour of ego and a brush with a service weapon, Dave found that sobriety isn't free—it costs time and the surrender of the "God's gift to aviation" mentality. He relies on a Higher Power to keep the monkey off his back.
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