Day #5 of 21
August 1, 2008
Today is Thursday… which starts the weekend… unofficially. So in step with that philosophy, my wife (thankfully, she is the DD; by the way, we have zero tolerance for drinking and driving… just to be clear) and I met with several other couples at a local bar to meet and have a few laughs. For many years we have followed this messiah to have a few —sometimes quite a few— beers. So it was with some trepidation that I went out for my weekly beer and wings.
There are only two times that I drink. When the day hasn’t gone too well and I’m a bit down or when things are great and everything is beautiful. Today, I feel great. Lookout.
I walked into Danny’s, a bar-restaurant where older folks hang out; all the familiar faces were there. The bartender slammed a frosty mug in front of me and my friend Tom started to pour sweet, lovely Labatt’s from the pitcher. But I held up my hand and said, ‘Tom, I’m not drinking tonight. In fact, I’m on a 21 day mission of sobriety and this is day 5.’
I spoke with conviction. He laughed. I held firm.
It’s funny how the rest of the evening was similar to all the others I have been a part of… debates on Iraq and politics… and predictions on how many games the Bills would win in 2008. But the strange thing was this. I went home and felt great. Like I was accomplishing something. How silly is that?
Although it was still a good night, the truth must be told. Hot chicken wings and Club Soda doesn’t have the same ring to it.
I made it through my first Thursday night with my friends mocking me lovingly as I drowned my sorrows in Club Soda.
So it’s off to day #6… a Friday… another party night… so we’ll see how it goes.
It’s getting easier to say no.
