1964, Pearl Harbor Day. Sandy B. walks into his first meeting and discovers that not drinking is merely breathing; it keeps you alive, but it isn't living.
A former Marine Corps pilot and Yale graduate, Sandy spent years as a "nobody," using booze to transform a room of strangers into a welcoming party. He recalls the grit of his decline: the heart palpitations at the speed of sound in an F-8 Crusader, the "alcoholic problem solving" of getting a crew cut so no one could yank his hair in a bar fight, and the desperation of using a fork to undo caked shoelaces while shaking in a panic over a closed liquor store. After a grand mal seizure and a stint in a nut ward, he was intercepted by a sponsor who treated him like a recruit.
He tried to manipulate his way out with a fake schedule of family birthdays, only to be shut down by a blunt command: don't take a drink. Sandy now views his illness as the only thing that forced him to grow up.
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