9/49 3 stories

Story 1
I went to an alcohol treatment program twice that year. The first time, I was shaving at the bathroom mirror and it seemed that the whiskers were growing faster than I could shave them off. Dressed in a hospital gown, I escaped. I ran down the street but the police caught up with me while I was banging away on a lady's front door. I half convinced them that I lived there but then they saw my wrist band.
I had the DT's so they strapped me down. I remember being incredibly scared and howling. Gangsters were after me, going to kill me. I stayed very quiet so the gangsters couldn't find me. Later, the doctors told me that I was on the verge of becoming a wet brain and could die of alcoholic dementia.
I stayed sober for 3 months, went to a few AA meetings but then I drank again. A few months later, I was back at the treatment program. I went on another binge that started on Thanksgiving. By mid January I was having hallucinations that would not go away.
A different treatment program said they would accept me in three days. I drank through those days thinking this would be my last hurrah. I almost fell going into the building. As the booze wore off, the hallucinations began again. I tried to escape but I was held down by sheriff's deputies, nurses and counselors. I was defeated and ready to die.
I woke up three days later, naked and stinking. I started to listen to the counselors. I went to AA meetings and actually tried the steps. I saw drunks like me that were now sober and happy. I wanted that.
I'm still pretty nuts. Insane thoughts go through my head all the time but the thought of another drink has not come up. To me, sobriety is a gift from God. If I drank again, it would be like giving the gift back. If I give it back, I'm dead.

Story 2
I was still pretty new at auto sales when this happened. Gulf Freeway Dodge was located right at the intersection of Hwy 45 and the 610 Loop in Houston and the neighborhood was ….rough.
A well dressed couple came in and asked about the advertised special. Of course they were disappointed that the low priced ad car had a stick shift and no air conditioning. This was to be expected. All the dealers did this. Most consumers don't seem to know the adage “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is”.
They led me to the used lot and chose a car to test drive. It was a 3 year old Porsche 911 coupe; bright red, flashy and obviously fast. They asked if they could take it for a test drive. I went for the keys and made a photocopy of the man's driver's license. The boss grabbed my arm and insisted that I ride along.
At 6 feet and 210 pounds, I had a hell of a time getting into the back seat. My butt was on the seat behind the driver, feet behind the passenger, shoulders slumped with my head firmly against the roof. At first, it didn't seem as though the guy really understood how to work a manual transmission. He was talking some Eastern European language to the woman, maybe Polish. As though a light bulb clicked on, he started driving the car like a pro.
If there had been more room in the back of the car, I would have been thrown around. As it was, I was stuck there and had no ability to move. I asked him to slow down and said where he should turn. He just chuckled in response.
He pulled into the gas station parking lot, got out of the car and then pointed a gun at me. I had to physically crawl to exit the car; I tripped over the seat belt. The gun directed me to sit on a curb.
This was before the age of cell phones. I found a phone booth and called into the boss. Next came the police interrogation, accusations that I was “In on it”, ridicule from the sales manager and co-workers. I quit the job a few days later.
My next car sales job was at a Porsche dealer.

Story 3
Every visitor at the treatment center had to wear a name tag. There was a pile of the plain white self stick tags and colored sharpies so I wrote a name and stuck it to my work shirt.
I had left her there yesterday. Age 36, she was in a fetal position and sounded like a frightened child.
I know I'm telling the story backwards but time and memory can play tricks on you. This is how I remember.
I was tired of working on the taxes so I went for coffee at one of those 24 hour gas stations. I realized that I was parked next to her Subaru Brat. She told me that she was giving her boss, a ride home but she was letting him drive. He came out of the store with his coffee, we exchanged pleasantries. I told her, “See you at home” and gave her a light kiss.
It suddenly dawned on me that we could go out after she dropped off Fred; I followed them out of the parking lot. As I followed, it became evident that he was not driving anywhere in a hurry. He went South, East and then North which did not make sense. One of their tires went flat at the crest of a bridge. I stopped right behind and realized that I didn't have the tire tools with me. We decided that I could fix the flat the next day, that I could give them a ride, drop off Fred and take Katy out for desert.
Do I really need to tell you that I found out they were having an affair? Do I need to tell you about all the yelling, crying and threatening that happened when I confronted her?
I still had the taxes to finish. I remembered she told me she had a DNC done at a certain clinic. I went there to get a receipt so that I could claim it. The receptionist told me “This is an abortion clinic”.
When I told her “You had an abortion”, she broke. I learned there had been multiple affairs and multiple abortions. Within hours, I delivered this pool of a person to the Treatment Center.
Anyway, back to the name tag. As the therapist greeted me she said “I know your name is ******* but you wrote Odysseus. Are you saying that you trying to find your way back home after horrible adventures?”
I answered “No, I like the name because at the end of the book, he kills everybody.”