One for the Road

If bootlegged whiskey was not to be had on a Saturday night, the young fishermen raided island kitchens for vanilla extract. The process of getting drunk took longer but the effect was still the same - oblivion. They were proud of achieving this state, as if it were something of a contest and a medal might be awarded at the end. Hangovers were a warped measure of status and the bragging rights to an all out drunken brawl were hotly debated in the days that followed. Any undesirable behavior was shrugged off under the guise of "kids will be kids", any consequences were taken as "learning a lesson". None of it was considered dangerous or even serious and it was rare that anyone even considered intervening in these rites of passage.

A few days ago as I watched, for the second time in as many weeks, a co-worker determinedly drink herself into a staggering daze, I thought how little has changed. She walked in sober and bright eyed and in a matter of less than an hour was slurring her words, unable to keep upright, propositioning anyone with a pulse and crashing into the furniture. No one paid her much mind, she was just one more sloppy, knee walking drunk. Waiters weaved their way around her, customers caught her when she fell, and the bartenders kept pouring. At the end of the night, even the musicians on the small stage were keeping an eye on her, fearing that she and her drink would stumble into an amplifier or a microphone.

As the musicians packed up their equipment, she tumbled and sprawled out in a chair next to mine, throwing her arms around my neck and apologizing through wails of laughter. Her drink spilled, sending olives and alcohol splashing over both of us and unexpectedly she began to cry, harsh sobs that shook her thin shoulders and hurt my heart. I held her until she stopped and then took her keys. She didn't protest as I led her outside and into my car and I hoped with all my heart that she wouldn't get sick on the drive home.

The mind of an alcoholic is a maze of paths leading nowhere except to the next drink. I doubted she would remember the end of the evening but I was quite sure she would repeat it.