The Handsome Englishman

It was March, 1979. I had been sober for one year, during which time I hadn't spent a night away from home (I was living in New York back then), gotten on a plane, or gone out on a date. But all that was about to change when I learned that I had to fly to Los Angeles for business. The thought of being away from my home group for even a few days, let alone a month, was daunting and so was the prospect of a cross-country airplane trip. I'd heard all the stories about the temptation of slipping while airborne.