Magazine

May 2011: Slow bottom

Drinking at work meant he was an alcoholic, so he quit the job

Beware the black hole at the bottom of a glass.

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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