"Just one sip.", I told myself.
My father, ever crafty in the ways of getting something for free, had a sudden spark of genius while we were at the hospitality concession at Sea World in Orlando.
The park, owned by Anheuser-Busch, offered free beer to it's over-21 adult guests.
"Free beer!?", questioned my father when he heard about this. He looked as if he just heard he won the lottery. "Was he in Heaven?", he may have wondered.
The rub though...you only get a maximum of two 8 oz. cups per person.
Knowing I was diligently maintaining my abstinence from alcohol for now almost 4 years, he came up with a plan.
"You having your beers?", he queried. He asked as simply a courtesy since he knew what my response would be.
"I'm not even going up to the counter.", I assured him.
He excused himself, "Oh, that's right, I'm sorry...".
"But, say no if it'll bother you; you could get two and bring them to me."
"No, it's no bother. It doesn't even phase me anymore. Sure, I'll get you the beers, Dad."
And there it was. It's what AA'ers call "false pride". The belief that a recovering alcoholic may develop, thinking they are more powerful than alcohol. Thinking they are now, because of years of sobriety, immune to it's lure.
I remember the next few minutes in vivid detail, like it was just yesterday. I guess that's how it is with some events, be they major or minor, that represent a shift in the direction your life is going. You can recall it all.
It was a bright, sunshiny day. Mom, Dad, my brother Russell, his wife Kim and I were sitting around a patio table, them sipping the free beers they had just gotten, me, a Diet Coke I bought at the food counter.
When everyone was just about finished, we made motions to get going to the next exhibit. (Back then, Sea World had practically no rides. Atlantis and Kraken had not yet been built, not that my parents would have gone on them if they were available anyway. Russ, Kim and I picked Sea World as our one and only nearby theme park visit for this short, heavily-budgeted 4-day getaway trip. We wanted my mom and dad to enjoy the day with us at the park too. It's the least we could do to thank them for putting us up during our short vacation from icy New England to my their new home in sunny DeLand, Florida.)
That's when my father approached me with the plan.
I had certainly been to places that served alcohol during my sobriety and it didn't phase me. But there's something about actually touching the container that it's in.
Like something radioactive, it seemed to affect me more by it's proximity than anything.
"Michelob", my father reminded me which brand to get as I walked back into the Hospitality Center.
Part of me, as I waited in the short line at the bar, was hoping that the barmaid would have guessed what my dad and I were up to and would have denied me the beer. I peered back in the direction I had entered and saw that the walls were virtually all glass and that she could clearly see where my family and I were sitting. My mom and dad were crossing over the little bridge that leads to the rest of the park followed by Russell and Kim. I was to rendezvous with them after getting the beer.
"Can I see your I.D. please?", she politely asked.
Wow, this through me off. I had been so thoroughly forgetful of the procedures of buying alcohol, I had forgotten that I might be carded. I fumbled for my wallet, pulled out my Rhode Island driver's license and handed it to her. She glanced at the card, thanked me, and poured two paper cups emblazoned on the sides with the Sea World logos full to the rim with Michelob beer.
I thanked her, paid nothing (since they were free, remember) and walked out the automatic doors and towards my waiting family.
As I approached the bridge, I paused. I looked at the babbling water flowing beneath the bridge and the beautiful flowers, plants and trees around it and thought how beautiful this all was. I looked at the beers. The clear pale-golden bubbly liquid had just a touch of a sudsy head. I could feel the contrasting sensations of the warm sun on my face and arms and the frosty coldness of the beers in their thin paper cups. I smelled the fragrant sweet bouquet wafting up from the cups and inhaled deeply. I noticed how the sun illuminated and highlighted the beer, making it sparkle; I could see the bubbles through the nearly translucent white paper of the cups rising up to pop on the surface. I swear I could hear the popping - pop, pop, pop - of those energetic little bubbles.
I remember suddenly thinking that the cups were too full. If I tried walking with them this full, I reasoned, I may spill some. But the surroundings were too manicured and clean to discreetly pour out any amount, I told myself, no matter if it would only be a half ounce or so.
So I gave a guilty, furtive glance around, as if I were going to do something bad I didn't want witnessed, and took a sip. I let the liquid sit in my mouth for a moment. Then I closed my eyes, and slowly swallowed, savoring the almost-forgotten bite of the complex flavors of hops, barley and malt.
And then another sip, from the other cup, to equal them out.
Suddenly, I wanted to have all of it. I wanted to just chug down both beers and go to my dad and tell him something, anything as an excuse. I didn't have to admit I drank them. I could say I spilled them, or, that the barmaid refused to give them to me. He wouldn't care that much. After all, they were free. And he already had his two.
They were just two little cups.
But then, as suddenly as I had fallen in it, I broke out of the spell. I looked down frowning at the evil poison hissing away in their cups. Now, I wanted to get these things over to my father as quickly as possible.
"Jesus, what took you so long?", my father laughingly-exclaimed, mock upset that he had to wait a few extra minutes for his free booze. I didn't tell him I had sipped from the cups.
As we walked together to see the Shamu show, I became aware of the beer's aftertaste in my mouth.
But rather than disgust, I enjoyed the hoppy flavor. I imagined that I could feel a slightly warm flushing in my cheeks from the alcohol, as it coursed through my veins and entered my brain. And my brain said to it, after waiting oh so long: Welcome home.
My father, ever crafty in the ways of getting something for free, had a sudden spark of genius while we were at the hospitality concession at Sea World in Orlando.
The park, owned by Anheuser-Busch, offered free beer to it's over-21 adult guests.
"Free beer!?", questioned my father when he heard about this. He looked as if he just heard he won the lottery. "Was he in Heaven?", he may have wondered.
The rub though...you only get a maximum of two 8 oz. cups per person.
Knowing I was diligently maintaining my abstinence from alcohol for now almost 4 years, he came up with a plan.
"You having your beers?", he queried. He asked as simply a courtesy since he knew what my response would be.
"I'm not even going up to the counter.", I assured him.
He excused himself, "Oh, that's right, I'm sorry...".
"But, say no if it'll bother you; you could get two and bring them to me."
"No, it's no bother. It doesn't even phase me anymore. Sure, I'll get you the beers, Dad."
And there it was. It's what AA'ers call "false pride". The belief that a recovering alcoholic may develop, thinking they are more powerful than alcohol. Thinking they are now, because of years of sobriety, immune to it's lure.
I remember the next few minutes in vivid detail, like it was just yesterday. I guess that's how it is with some events, be they major or minor, that represent a shift in the direction your life is going. You can recall it all.
It was a bright, sunshiny day. Mom, Dad, my brother Russell, his wife Kim and I were sitting around a patio table, them sipping the free beers they had just gotten, me, a Diet Coke I bought at the food counter.
When everyone was just about finished, we made motions to get going to the next exhibit. (Back then, Sea World had practically no rides. Atlantis and Kraken had not yet been built, not that my parents would have gone on them if they were available anyway. Russ, Kim and I picked Sea World as our one and only nearby theme park visit for this short, heavily-budgeted 4-day getaway trip. We wanted my mom and dad to enjoy the day with us at the park too. It's the least we could do to thank them for putting us up during our short vacation from icy New England to my their new home in sunny DeLand, Florida.)
That's when my father approached me with the plan.
I had certainly been to places that served alcohol during my sobriety and it didn't phase me. But there's something about actually touching the container that it's in.
Like something radioactive, it seemed to affect me more by it's proximity than anything.
"Michelob", my father reminded me which brand to get as I walked back into the Hospitality Center.
Part of me, as I waited in the short line at the bar, was hoping that the barmaid would have guessed what my dad and I were up to and would have denied me the beer. I peered back in the direction I had entered and saw that the walls were virtually all glass and that she could clearly see where my family and I were sitting. My mom and dad were crossing over the little bridge that leads to the rest of the park followed by Russell and Kim. I was to rendezvous with them after getting the beer.
"Can I see your I.D. please?", she politely asked.
Wow, this through me off. I had been so thoroughly forgetful of the procedures of buying alcohol, I had forgotten that I might be carded. I fumbled for my wallet, pulled out my Rhode Island driver's license and handed it to her. She glanced at the card, thanked me, and poured two paper cups emblazoned on the sides with the Sea World logos full to the rim with Michelob beer.
I thanked her, paid nothing (since they were free, remember) and walked out the automatic doors and towards my waiting family.
As I approached the bridge, I paused. I looked at the babbling water flowing beneath the bridge and the beautiful flowers, plants and trees around it and thought how beautiful this all was. I looked at the beers. The clear pale-golden bubbly liquid had just a touch of a sudsy head. I could feel the contrasting sensations of the warm sun on my face and arms and the frosty coldness of the beers in their thin paper cups. I smelled the fragrant sweet bouquet wafting up from the cups and inhaled deeply. I noticed how the sun illuminated and highlighted the beer, making it sparkle; I could see the bubbles through the nearly translucent white paper of the cups rising up to pop on the surface. I swear I could hear the popping - pop, pop, pop - of those energetic little bubbles.
I remember suddenly thinking that the cups were too full. If I tried walking with them this full, I reasoned, I may spill some. But the surroundings were too manicured and clean to discreetly pour out any amount, I told myself, no matter if it would only be a half ounce or so.
So I gave a guilty, furtive glance around, as if I were going to do something bad I didn't want witnessed, and took a sip. I let the liquid sit in my mouth for a moment. Then I closed my eyes, and slowly swallowed, savoring the almost-forgotten bite of the complex flavors of hops, barley and malt.
And then another sip, from the other cup, to equal them out.
Suddenly, I wanted to have all of it. I wanted to just chug down both beers and go to my dad and tell him something, anything as an excuse. I didn't have to admit I drank them. I could say I spilled them, or, that the barmaid refused to give them to me. He wouldn't care that much. After all, they were free. And he already had his two.
They were just two little cups.
But then, as suddenly as I had fallen in it, I broke out of the spell. I looked down frowning at the evil poison hissing away in their cups. Now, I wanted to get these things over to my father as quickly as possible.
"Jesus, what took you so long?", my father laughingly-exclaimed, mock upset that he had to wait a few extra minutes for his free booze. I didn't tell him I had sipped from the cups.
As we walked together to see the Shamu show, I became aware of the beer's aftertaste in my mouth.
But rather than disgust, I enjoyed the hoppy flavor. I imagined that I could feel a slightly warm flushing in my cheeks from the alcohol, as it coursed through my veins and entered my brain. And my brain said to it, after waiting oh so long: Welcome home.