Magazine

May 2011: Anti-social security

Instead of having the world by its tail, booze had him by the neck

"I stashed bottles everywhere. I kept one in my golf bag, outside in the storage shed, in my tool box, and under the seat of my pickup truck."

I recall having my first beer when I was 17, at my uncle’s birthday party. In the midst of the celebration, I was told that on this day, it was okay to have one. I hated the taste, sense of guilt and the upset stomach I had afterward and didn’t drink again until after high school graduation.

After high school, I drank sparingly and not often. I recall my first big binge at a friend’s poker party, where we got a little carried away and I had to be driven home. They leaned me up against my front door, rang the doorbell and left. When my mother opened the door, I collapsed in her... Login to read more
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