Oh My God Stop!
After Frank the Angel’s visit to Barry’s Bar, I was reminded that I needed to get to rehab. I remembered the lady on the phone: get here soon – blah blah – beds might not be available – blah blah blah….
When Marvin said “are ya ready to go?” I looked around at Barry’s Bar. There was no better dark, grungy place in the world for me, right then and there. I wanted to stay forever.
I would never, ever be ready to go.
“I guess,” I said. If I had to stop drinking, this was a great last place to drink.
And I had to stop drinking. Even though every molecule in my body wanted more more more MORE! I knew that I needed to get to rehab. Even though my brain was demanding: GO TO REHAB! the ticker tape in my brain was saying only one thing: this is the last time … this is the last time … this is the last time ….
I am an alcoholic. There would never, ever be enough beer for me. I couldn’t have one drink, because I would not be able to stop. I would never be able to control the consequences. I would not be able to have a life of any kind unless I could get off the alcohol.
I needed rehab. I needed it like I needed oxygen. But with alcohol already in my system, the only thing I really wanted was another beer.
Still, Erie was only a couple of hours away. Marvin was ready to go. I needed to go with him. So with a nod to Barry, who probably assumed I’d be back in an hour, I walked out the door. I sloshed myself into the sidecar and we finally drove out of Pitcairn.
I passed out almost immediately.
The sun was blazing down on me when I woke and took notice of my surroundings. We were on a highway somewhere, nothing but green all around us. I lit a cigarette inside the sidecar.
That’s when Marvin said, over the din and without so much as a hint of exhaustion, “Um, I’ve been awake for more than 24 hours. And I need to call work. They don’t know where I am.”
Marvin’s well-being had never crossed my mind.
“Oh my god stop!” I said. “Stop somewhere, anywhere! And call work! And get some sleep!”
A normal person might be worried that sleepy, drunk Marvin would crash the motorcycle and kill us both.
My first thought: if we stop, I can get more alcohol!
“Are you sure?” Marvin asked me. “I know you want to get to rehab.”
“Yes! It’s totally cool! You need sleep!” I said. “I’ll pay for your hotel!” (I loved that credit card.)
Within minutes we were checking into a hotel in Meadville, Pennsylvania, 45 minutes away from rehab.
“Is there a bar within walking distance?” I asked the desk clerk. I’d been sleeping for maybe two hours, but I was ready to start drinking immediately.
“I don’t know of any,” he said, sizing me up. “There’s a liquor store a couple of blocks east.”
“Which way is east?” I asked him. I had no sense of direction and just wanted him to point.
The desk clerk stared. “I guess you could follow the train tracks,” he said. “Just follow them awhile and you’ll get to a plaza with a liquor store.”
Train tracks.
We got our room keys and I waved to Marvin. “See ya!”
Marvin was too tired to argue. “Just make sure you come back,” he said.
Marvin was starting to figure me out.