February 4, 1975

When I woke up on the morning of February 4, 1975, I really needed a drink, as I had been drunk for two days. I started drinking at around noon, and by 6:00 p.m. I remember the bartender asking me if I was all right. I said, "Yes. Why, did I do something wrong?" He said, "No, but you have had enough alcohol to put most people in a coma." Later that evening, I went into a blackout. I came out of it in a strange bar I had never been in before. It was now midnight and in front of me on the bar was a shot of vodka and a pile of money. I didn't know where I got the cash and did not know how or when I got to this place. I looked into the mirror behind the bar and realized I was a drunken bum. I just sat there. It was at that moment I lost any bit of self-respect I might have still had. It was my moment of clarity; it was the truth. I stood up, pushed the shot of vodka aside and left the bar. I was in no condition to drive, but God seems to look after fools and drunks and I somehow made it home.