Magazine

January 2013: Pit Stop

She spent years hopping from bars to beds until a good friend showed her the way home

On my 25th birthday, I remember “coming to” in a drunk’s trailer house across from a hole-in-the-wall-bar, where I was able to pick up drinks on most days. The owner of the trailer was a guy who had picked me up in that bar a few days prior. He offered me drinks and a bed, and I took them. The morning of my birthday as I reached into the refrigerator to get one of his beers, I remember thinking: I wish I could find a way to stop drinking, so I never again have to reach for a drink on my birthday.

After he had finished his coffee and I had finished a couple of beers to calm my... Login to read more
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