What would you do for a Klondike Bar?
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Thread Starter
Join Date: Mar 2007
Location: Asheville, NC
Posts: 24
What would you do for a Klondike Bar?
I had an interesting revelation this weekend: I was at a club with my cousin and some friends. I've been sober a while and feel comfortable enough with my sobriety to visit bars and such establishments without any worry of drinking or even wanting to drink. It doesn't even cross my mind, and actually, seeing all the drunks around these places (which I used to be among) makes me embarrassed and sad for them and they annoy me, which I'm sure was the way I acted, and thought I was king of the world. It's a good reminder of more reasons not to drink.
Anyway, my cousin went to get a vodka and Sprite and me just a Sprite. Of course she got the drinks mixed up and gave me the spiked one. Amazingly, this has never happened before. I have been handed glasses of champagne and wine, which I discreetly set down after a few moments, though, which was pretty tough in the circumstances.
But I took a big swig, and immediately knew what it was. It was DISGUSTING! I spit it out and had an aftertaste of the vodka which I washed out with my Sprite, and just having it in my mouth made me literally gag at the table, which fortunately no one saw.
But my thoughts were that when I was drinking, I drank chardonnay and bourbon and cokes. And sometimes whatever I could get my hands on. OK, often whatever was around. But wine and B&C's were my preference. But now just the smell makes me want to vomit.
Have I brainwashed myself a la Clockwork Orange? Maybe...but I think that alcoholic drinks actually have always been THAT gross, unpalatable, and just repellent and toxic tasting to me. That's how strong the desire quickly became: that I would drink literally ANYthing for an alcoholic buzz. I don't remember ever taking a drink and thinking to myself "wow, that's good/refreshing!" It was always: "Party time!"
I remember in my early sobriety going to speaker meetings and listening to speakers tell of themselves drinking mouthwash under a bridge or in their car, where they were living with their child, or drinking anything containing alcohol, health, law and life be damned, much less the mere taste. And many wound up in the hospital. And I remember thinking: wow. I could never or would never be THAT bad. But now I see that not only could I, and would I, but I already was. I already was long in a stage where I was not only literally drinking unpalatable poison, but it really didn't taste any worse to me than drinking dog Pi$$. I often made faces the first few sips until my mouth was numbed. And the saddest thing is I would have stepped over the body of my dying father to get more after my first one. I really don't think my life was headed upwards from there.
And I now wonder, how far would I have eventually gone to get a drink? How insane was I becoming? Obviously I had passed a point where self-destruction wasn't an issue-I ignored what I was doing to my body, mind and spirit(what was left, if any). I ignored what I was doing to my family, future, and endangering everything I had and could/would have. I suppose I would have kept going until I ended up where we all will end up if left to our own devices: the grave, jail or the nuthouse. But it now amazes me how terrible this disease is, that it will not only put you there, but will convince you to do things so awful the entire way to the bottom. And blind us to the sobering truth of our inevitable fate. We evolve into the definition of an idiot. It seems we try to beat the disease "one day at a time" and it fights back "one sip at a time." When we drank, we never looked past that next sip, as we now fight fire with fire and never look past the next "not" taking a sip. Ironic.
Sorry for the diatribe, and what should have been a short little story. It's cathartic to sometimes just write. And apologies to probably a lot of people who don't know what a Klondike Bar is and why anyone would do stupid things for one.
Anyway, my cousin went to get a vodka and Sprite and me just a Sprite. Of course she got the drinks mixed up and gave me the spiked one. Amazingly, this has never happened before. I have been handed glasses of champagne and wine, which I discreetly set down after a few moments, though, which was pretty tough in the circumstances.
But I took a big swig, and immediately knew what it was. It was DISGUSTING! I spit it out and had an aftertaste of the vodka which I washed out with my Sprite, and just having it in my mouth made me literally gag at the table, which fortunately no one saw.
But my thoughts were that when I was drinking, I drank chardonnay and bourbon and cokes. And sometimes whatever I could get my hands on. OK, often whatever was around. But wine and B&C's were my preference. But now just the smell makes me want to vomit.
Have I brainwashed myself a la Clockwork Orange? Maybe...but I think that alcoholic drinks actually have always been THAT gross, unpalatable, and just repellent and toxic tasting to me. That's how strong the desire quickly became: that I would drink literally ANYthing for an alcoholic buzz. I don't remember ever taking a drink and thinking to myself "wow, that's good/refreshing!" It was always: "Party time!"
I remember in my early sobriety going to speaker meetings and listening to speakers tell of themselves drinking mouthwash under a bridge or in their car, where they were living with their child, or drinking anything containing alcohol, health, law and life be damned, much less the mere taste. And many wound up in the hospital. And I remember thinking: wow. I could never or would never be THAT bad. But now I see that not only could I, and would I, but I already was. I already was long in a stage where I was not only literally drinking unpalatable poison, but it really didn't taste any worse to me than drinking dog Pi$$. I often made faces the first few sips until my mouth was numbed. And the saddest thing is I would have stepped over the body of my dying father to get more after my first one. I really don't think my life was headed upwards from there.
And I now wonder, how far would I have eventually gone to get a drink? How insane was I becoming? Obviously I had passed a point where self-destruction wasn't an issue-I ignored what I was doing to my body, mind and spirit(what was left, if any). I ignored what I was doing to my family, future, and endangering everything I had and could/would have. I suppose I would have kept going until I ended up where we all will end up if left to our own devices: the grave, jail or the nuthouse. But it now amazes me how terrible this disease is, that it will not only put you there, but will convince you to do things so awful the entire way to the bottom. And blind us to the sobering truth of our inevitable fate. We evolve into the definition of an idiot. It seems we try to beat the disease "one day at a time" and it fights back "one sip at a time." When we drank, we never looked past that next sip, as we now fight fire with fire and never look past the next "not" taking a sip. Ironic.
Sorry for the diatribe, and what should have been a short little story. It's cathartic to sometimes just write. And apologies to probably a lot of people who don't know what a Klondike Bar is and why anyone would do stupid things for one.
not a greeter
Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: padmasana
Posts: 13,927
Thanks for that Lost Sailor. I don't think I've ever wondered how far would I go for a drink... or would have gone rather. Your story makes me wonder... although now I don't plan on finding out.
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Mar 2007
Location: Asheville, NC
Posts: 24
I keep thinking about this, and have decided to forget dwelling on it, because the two instances that keep popping up in my head follow, and I KNOW I would have not thought twice about doing something 100 times more drastic.
I was pulled for speeding around 11am while drunk, and had dumped out my wine, which the officer saw as he was pulling me. He didn't toss me in jail amazingly, but towed my car and took me home. My wife was at work, of course. Now...how would a normal person react? Well, what I did was call my realtor, whose office was about 2 miles from me and I hadn't seen since I closed on my house about a year earlier and ask if I could borrow his car for something(insert lie here). I rode my bike to his office, drove his BMW to the store and stocked up on wine and cigarettes, smoked in his car on the way back, drove to my house as fast as I could to drop off the wine, chugged some, drove back to his office probably reeking like a wino and rode my bike as fast as I could home. Classy.
Pathetic, but not as stupid as this: was staying at a rental house for work in Columbia, SC away from my home in Charleston, SC and had the company car I was given for my job. I had downed about 3 big bottles of wine in a few hours and shouldn't have even been conscious. So I decide to go get more. I drive around town until I find no stores are still open and either pass out at the wheel or something drunks do to wreck-I don't remember the specifics (big surprise). I drive my company's car into a tree on a side road near Ft. Jackson, which was about 2 miles from my rental house, but I don't even know where I was headed; not to my house, at least. I open the car door and step out, and bust my butt because the car is about 2 feet off the ground from where it should be. I bash my face in on something and gash my cheek under my eye. I decide to leave the car, and stagger home, blood everywhere, pouring down my face, over my shirt, on my pants, in my hair, down one of the busiest 4 lane roads in the city. I still am in complete awe NO one stopped at this spectacle. I finally made it home several hours later and passed out in a pool of sticky blood. I awoke the next day with my pager going off: work. Don't answer it, of course. My eye was swollen shut, my face looked like I had been run over and I have a gigantic wound on my face. And no car. And I don't remember where my car even was or what happened. And I know no one in town.
So this is a problem: I wrecked my company's car, but I don't know where. I need medical attention and have no wheels and know no one. Work is calling about something, and at least to know where I am and why I'm not at my appointments, at worst why the Columbia police are calling them. Holy crap.
My next door neighbor was an eye doctor, so he took care of me as much as he could, which had to be divine intervention. Of course I tell him I tripped into my doorknob (those damn doors-they always get people in the eye!) So I call the police, file a false report saying my ex girlfriend took my car without my permission and I hadn't seen it and did they know where it was? I wasn't sure what measures they'd take to track down my ex, but it was yet another stupid risk I was willing to take. Finally found the car, took a cab to the tow yard, and it's wrecked pretty bad. So I have to take a cab to the bank, get money and back to pay to get it out. Then have to pay out of pocket to have it towed to a shop and fixed which was major $$$. Then I have to explain to my girlfriend what happened to my face and why the car's in the shop, as well as deal with my boss and work and all that entailed.
From that episode, I was out serious money, eventually lost my job, lied to everyone, almost killed myself and everyone on the road, then almost gave myself a concussion if not much worse, avoided being arrested by the skin of my teeth, gave myself a nice laceration and could have lost my eyesight, and if I remember, was driving without a license to begin with from a prior run-in that was alcohol related. And not only can I say I drove that drunk again during the following years many, many times, but I'm willing to bet somehow I was drunk the next night.
In fact, I have a story almost identical from when I lived in Atlanta and stumbled down Peachtree Rd. through Buckhead for 5 miles from midtown all the way to Lenox Mall covered in blood and dirt from running from the cops through the woods after wrecking my girlfriend's car at 3am and a cab finally picking me up(reluctantly). I don't even think anything needs to be said about that.
Isn't drinking glamorous? It's an insanity potion.
I was pulled for speeding around 11am while drunk, and had dumped out my wine, which the officer saw as he was pulling me. He didn't toss me in jail amazingly, but towed my car and took me home. My wife was at work, of course. Now...how would a normal person react? Well, what I did was call my realtor, whose office was about 2 miles from me and I hadn't seen since I closed on my house about a year earlier and ask if I could borrow his car for something(insert lie here). I rode my bike to his office, drove his BMW to the store and stocked up on wine and cigarettes, smoked in his car on the way back, drove to my house as fast as I could to drop off the wine, chugged some, drove back to his office probably reeking like a wino and rode my bike as fast as I could home. Classy.
Pathetic, but not as stupid as this: was staying at a rental house for work in Columbia, SC away from my home in Charleston, SC and had the company car I was given for my job. I had downed about 3 big bottles of wine in a few hours and shouldn't have even been conscious. So I decide to go get more. I drive around town until I find no stores are still open and either pass out at the wheel or something drunks do to wreck-I don't remember the specifics (big surprise). I drive my company's car into a tree on a side road near Ft. Jackson, which was about 2 miles from my rental house, but I don't even know where I was headed; not to my house, at least. I open the car door and step out, and bust my butt because the car is about 2 feet off the ground from where it should be. I bash my face in on something and gash my cheek under my eye. I decide to leave the car, and stagger home, blood everywhere, pouring down my face, over my shirt, on my pants, in my hair, down one of the busiest 4 lane roads in the city. I still am in complete awe NO one stopped at this spectacle. I finally made it home several hours later and passed out in a pool of sticky blood. I awoke the next day with my pager going off: work. Don't answer it, of course. My eye was swollen shut, my face looked like I had been run over and I have a gigantic wound on my face. And no car. And I don't remember where my car even was or what happened. And I know no one in town.
So this is a problem: I wrecked my company's car, but I don't know where. I need medical attention and have no wheels and know no one. Work is calling about something, and at least to know where I am and why I'm not at my appointments, at worst why the Columbia police are calling them. Holy crap.
My next door neighbor was an eye doctor, so he took care of me as much as he could, which had to be divine intervention. Of course I tell him I tripped into my doorknob (those damn doors-they always get people in the eye!) So I call the police, file a false report saying my ex girlfriend took my car without my permission and I hadn't seen it and did they know where it was? I wasn't sure what measures they'd take to track down my ex, but it was yet another stupid risk I was willing to take. Finally found the car, took a cab to the tow yard, and it's wrecked pretty bad. So I have to take a cab to the bank, get money and back to pay to get it out. Then have to pay out of pocket to have it towed to a shop and fixed which was major $$$. Then I have to explain to my girlfriend what happened to my face and why the car's in the shop, as well as deal with my boss and work and all that entailed.
From that episode, I was out serious money, eventually lost my job, lied to everyone, almost killed myself and everyone on the road, then almost gave myself a concussion if not much worse, avoided being arrested by the skin of my teeth, gave myself a nice laceration and could have lost my eyesight, and if I remember, was driving without a license to begin with from a prior run-in that was alcohol related. And not only can I say I drove that drunk again during the following years many, many times, but I'm willing to bet somehow I was drunk the next night.
In fact, I have a story almost identical from when I lived in Atlanta and stumbled down Peachtree Rd. through Buckhead for 5 miles from midtown all the way to Lenox Mall covered in blood and dirt from running from the cops through the woods after wrecking my girlfriend's car at 3am and a cab finally picking me up(reluctantly). I don't even think anything needs to be said about that.
Isn't drinking glamorous? It's an insanity potion.
Forward we go...side by side-Rest In Peace
Join Date: Jun 2002
Location: Serene In Dixie
Posts: 36,740
Am I the only drunk who had all the liquor
delivered?
That came about when I smashed a 1/2 gallon
of JW Black trying to unlock my door.
Never happened again!
delivered?
That came about when I smashed a 1/2 gallon
of JW Black trying to unlock my door.
Never happened again!
Don't get undies in a bunch
Join Date: Apr 2004
Location: South Shore MA
Posts: 7,120
In the early days..I walked *LOL*
Never understood why the winos would say no to beers when they asked for money to buy wine as we walked past them at the park. Figured it out one day when I bought wine rather then beers.
Never understood why the winos would say no to beers when they asked for money to buy wine as we walked past them at the park. Figured it out one day when I bought wine rather then beers.
Follow Directions!
Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: Fredericksburg, Va.
Posts: 9,730
Thanks sailor for the share, I never lost a vehicle drinking, of course the only reason I didn't was because I did most of my drinking in the final years in my garage, but there were those occasions where I first passed out int the woods, came to, got back to my truck and it took me about 15 minutes just to get behind the wheel, thank God I was sleepy and took a little nap! LOL
I drank cooking sherry on several occasions when I was to plowed to find my keys to drive and get more beer.
Insanity is pretty damn accurate.
I drank cooking sherry on several occasions when I was to plowed to find my keys to drive and get more beer.
Insanity is pretty damn accurate.
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