A Headache and a Mouth Full of Cotton

On February 14, 1961, armed with a smart blue suit and a very impressive briefcase, I marched into a midtown hotel. It was thirty-nine days since my last drink. I felt better than I had in years, and during that month, all of my energies had been devoted to preparing for the annual sales meeting. That evening, a hundred guys from New York and New England would descend on New York City. I was ready for them.