One minute of my life
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Join Date: Oct 2014
Location: S.E. MI
Posts: 1,025
A guy I have worked with for years was telling me about how he was quitting smoking. I said think of all the cash you will save, I saved a ton when I quit drinking. He said yea I know, I'm comming up on one year shortly. Its just funny, I had no idea and would never had quessed he used to drink or was in recovery. You never know, and yes we are all over the place out there. Good for us.
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Join Date: Nov 2012
Location: Central America/Florida USA
Posts: 4,064
Originally Posted by Venecia 
I spent the week before last on business in Philadelphia. With a bit of time to kill before I had to head to the airport, I stopped in a lovely restaurant to get something yummy. Glanced at the menu, without my reading glasses, while checking emails at the same time. Settled on banana bread pudding and ... Mexican coffee.
My order arrived. The coffee is lusciously topped with whipped cream and cinnamon -- yum! Then I take a drink. What's that? Another sip. Oh yeah. That's whiskey. Mexican coffee is Irish coffee with cinnamon.
What I learned: Pay attention and if you need reading glasses, for God's sake, wear them. Over the years, I'd read of others getting blindsided but figured it could never happen to me. Until it did.
So there I am. Alone in a Philadelphia restaurant, with just an hour before I need to catch a Lyft. No one knows me. What the hell, right? No one will know.
What I learned: Everything you've read or heard about the AV is true. Cunning and patient. Six years sober, and for a few seconds, I'm thinking I could drink just this once.
Cunning and patient. But I deserve better.
I motioned the waitress over. With a sheepish apology, I said I would like to get regular coffee instead. Then, almost as a footnote: "I'm in recovery. I'm sure this is a lovely Mexican coffee but I can't have it."
The waitress smiled and said: "I'm in recovery, too! Two and a half years. Tomorrow is my birthday and it'll be my third sober." Before I left the restaurant we hugged and wished each other the best.
Heading back to my hotel, my route took me through Penn's Landing on the Delaware River. There, people were setting up for Philly's annual recovery walk, where tens of thousands of people participate the next day. The honor guard, folks with 10 years or more of sobriety, lead the walk. They're my heroes.
You can fill stadium upon stadium with those of us in recovery. None of us got to where we are with a golden ticket -- just hard work, starting from a rough place.
We're everywhere. You often don't know it. Sometimes you do. Maybe someone serving you coffee. You can be part of it, too.
My order arrived. The coffee is lusciously topped with whipped cream and cinnamon -- yum! Then I take a drink. What's that? Another sip. Oh yeah. That's whiskey. Mexican coffee is Irish coffee with cinnamon.
What I learned: Pay attention and if you need reading glasses, for God's sake, wear them. Over the years, I'd read of others getting blindsided but figured it could never happen to me. Until it did.
So there I am. Alone in a Philadelphia restaurant, with just an hour before I need to catch a Lyft. No one knows me. What the hell, right? No one will know.
What I learned: Everything you've read or heard about the AV is true. Cunning and patient. Six years sober, and for a few seconds, I'm thinking I could drink just this once.
Cunning and patient. But I deserve better.
I motioned the waitress over. With a sheepish apology, I said I would like to get regular coffee instead. Then, almost as a footnote: "I'm in recovery. I'm sure this is a lovely Mexican coffee but I can't have it."
The waitress smiled and said: "I'm in recovery, too! Two and a half years. Tomorrow is my birthday and it'll be my third sober." Before I left the restaurant we hugged and wished each other the best.
Heading back to my hotel, my route took me through Penn's Landing on the Delaware River. There, people were setting up for Philly's annual recovery walk, where tens of thousands of people participate the next day. The honor guard, folks with 10 years or more of sobriety, lead the walk. They're my heroes.
You can fill stadium upon stadium with those of us in recovery. None of us got to where we are with a golden ticket -- just hard work, starting from a rough place.
We're everywhere. You often don't know it. Sometimes you do. Maybe someone serving you coffee. You can be part of it, too.
Loved this read!
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