An Evening With Trey

"I said that the world is absurd, but I was too hasty. This world in itself is not reasonable, that is all that can be said. But what is absurd is the confrontation of this irrational and the wild longing for clarity whose call echoes in the human heart."  Albert Camus..

Scene starts with me being escorted from a Las Vegas hospital to my friend Roberto's car. I'm unstable, walking slowly, Roberto helps me in to the front seat gingerly, my shirt is unbuttoned, there are bandages across my ribs where I was kicked, my face is swollen and bruised from the beating I took but miraculously, I'm alive.

VOICE OVER BEGINS: (STRONG MUSIC CHOICE)

Once again, I couldn't finish the job, my desire to leave the world peacefully interrupted by forces beyond any rational explanation.  In truth, the pussy in me saved me again. Just can't do violence, to myself or others.

But to the faithful in my life, it must have been divine intervention, with God having other plans, saving me for something or someone better. Uncomfortable with all that incomprehensible and irrational stuff, I'm unable to agree nor disagree. I'm left only to shrug, the profound mystery of my continued existence remaining just that. An unexplainable mystery

For here I was. Walking away from one more serious attempt on my life relatively unscathed, with all my physical and mental faculties still at hand. The Morris the cat jokes just write themselves, but all joking aside, donating my body and brain to science when all my days are done has crossed my mind

But if you asked me to summarize my past 18 months with 5 serious attempts on my life,  if you're going to suck at something, have it be taking your life.

But what now? 

Incapable of living, unable to die. I was an obscenely over-educated zombie. Maybe someday I could audition for the Walking Dead..

My friend Roberto. (driver) He knew the drill. This was his 4th recon mission in the last 2 years, rescuing me from all sorts of ungodly predicaments. After my first serious attempt on my life, we flew him to Denver in the hopes he'd somehow find my car. Talk about a needle in a haystack. But Roberto knew me, and kinda knew where to look first. And low and behold, there was my Ford Explorer parked safely away in the back parking lot of a lesbian bar. How does one explain that? Was I really trying to sneak in one last 3some before leaving this life?

But Roberto would save the day that day and many others. A saint in the flesh he was. Without him, I'm not 100% sure I survive these ordeals to share my story with you now so lets give Roberto a nice round of applause (Roberto tips his hat to the camera)

And though that drive home through the desert was tense, (not much small talk after a suicide attempt..Gee, how was your weekend?.. How'd you do at the tables? Now that there's no funeral, can I get my lesson this week? ) the overpowering fever to terminate my life broke. I'd been on a deathwish the past couple years, my Bipolar Disorder and drug addiction raging out of control, so much so I made 5 serious attempts on my life, the last near moments from being successful til of all things, I was car-jacked... From underneath my car where I lay motionless, passed out from carbon monoxide poisoning, mere moments from leaving this earthly plane.  But it wasn't enough to just take my car, they kicked me senseless, (hence the bandages) dumping me in the bushes of stranger's house, leaving me to stagger to a hospital through the dark mean streets of an eerie Vegas night.

All because I couldn't accept my fate, that life was hard for the dually diagnosed. I lost site of my reality, that life is not supposed to go smoothly for those so afflicted. It never had before, why did I panic now? Why was I so harsh on myself, so judgmental, so dismissive of my remaining value as a person? More stuff for the therapist's couch someday I guess.

IMAGES OF THE QUIET  DRIVE HOME: Pulling on the freeway, signs for Los Angeles, driving through the desert, being asleep, ravenously eating, getting back to the city, getting back to Gayle's house, being helped up the stairs to the spare bedroom to sleep it off.

VOICEOVER AS WE DRIVE THROUGH THE DESERT: Through the chain of command, Roberto had been called to retrieve me one more time, with instructions NOT to drop me at  a rehab or another mental hospital like times before, (none of that stuff had worked) but back to my confidant's Gayle's house one last time, who said I could stay as long as I needed but only if I went to meetings and stayed clean. 

Not exactly in a place to argue or bargain, I wholeheartedly agreed to the terms, promising to try my best. Small price to pay for room and board and one more chance to get my life back in order. But just like every time before, take away my "medicines" and the rapid cycling would rev back up. (Images of me up late, furiously typing at all hours as Gayle peeks in over my shoulder, the clock some ungodly hour in the a.m. Up all hours manically writing and reading plotting and scheming. ( A desk with stacks of stuff all strewn about)  Without my "medicines", my mania raged.. And ever single time, my focus would shift from getting healthy, to making up for lost time...Sober up, clean up, speed up, fuck up.. Rinse repeat. You could set your calendars to it..

A quarter century of serious drug addiction, all self-medicating a raging Bipolar disorder run rampant, my wires seriously tangled, like a cat with a ball of yarn, (IMAGE) cursed with an insatiable zest for a rich full life yet without a clue on how to live one.

In my defense, I'd been dealt a tough hand. Alcoholism, addiction, anxiety, Bipolar disorder, born in to an emotionally retarded family, (probably shouldn't use that word but I'm in no mood for euphemisms) some might even say abusive (images of family boxing in the living room, Dad screaming at me in the car after losing a match) Either way, my family would later confess on a scale of 0 to 100 in emotional development, they were zeroes. Appreciate the honesty, not so much the effort. 

Either way, we were all ill-equipped at understanding the vagaries of my complicated human condition. We just didn't do emotions in my family, though we sure knew how to trigger them. And growing up during a time when people knew very little about addiction or recovery or mental health and wellness, certainly not in our circles l, I didn't have much of a chance, having to go it alone for a near quarter century with quite mixed results one might say.

And I'd lived this scene out so many times.. My wackamole life.. (Illustration of wackamole) Stop partying, the mood swings rage. Party hard, the mood swings calm but the dysfunction flares. take the meds, and my brain flat-lines while my body short-circuits, leaving me unable to do the only job I knew. And if I went off everything, the overwhelming depression of a life gone wrong would cripple me. Try as I might, finding safe harbor among my various storms had proven elusive if not downright impossible.

Though it was not through lack of effort. I'd tried everything, 5 inpatient treatment centers, multiple psychiatric hospitalizations, 1000s of AA meetings, 100s of hours of therapy, reader of every book, adherent of every philosophy. (starting to think Camus was right about life's absurdity)  I'd been deemed wiser that a treeful of owls by those who knew me, yet I kept ending up in the same defeated place, in increasingly demoralized states of mind and body.

And though the events of the car jacking/hospitalization scared me straight for a moment, it wasn't long before my head was red-lining again, with me back in my car driving, and like that stupid show Knightrider, I would lose control of my car as it sought out one of my many dealers, where in spite of everything that had transpired, the total devastation to my life, my family, and to my friends who still loved me, here I was, on my way to score drugs one more time.

And it was in that scene I had a moment of clarity. (another look in the rearview mirror as my dealer approached the car) ."Here we go again"  I saw myself clearly for what I'd become, a hopelessly strung out addict to drugs. Chemical substances were an overwhelming virus in my operating system. I was the human version of that stupid game show Card Sharks.. Higher!! Lower!! A life full of hope and promise and zest, all but been squandered for the buzz.

But it was in that moment I made a life changing if not life saving decision. That day, I decided I would live my remaining days on this planet as a functioning drug addict. I know, I know, after all I'd been through, that must sound completely insane. And as a sober being, Its hard not to laugh now, but millions do it around us every single day. But the fact was, I simply couldn't stay sober, and until some outside force swooped in to alter the course of my life, it was simply the  best I could do.

High again, out of respect for Gayle, I told her what was going on, that I'd relapsed and would go to a hotel room.. (giving her key back, a sad parting, a tense hug good luck)

And off to The Moonlite Inn I went.. Perfect place for me. There's the last house on the block, then there's the Moonlite Inn. But it checked some important boxes.  Close to the tennis courts, the smoke shop, the liquor store, Thai food and most importantly, my dealer

 SCENE: Me walking in to the pizza place, tennis bag over my shoulder, right across the street from the motel, to pick up my dinner and a delivery..I'm handed two Pizza Boxes by the guy at the counter. I hand him a wad of cash, with a couple hundred on the outside. (look to the camera: Expensive pizza!!)

Same strip mall. I walk into smoke shop.. wait til everyone leaves.. walk up to counter.. 2 please.. pulls out 2 meth pipes..He throws in some lighter fluid and a torch. Next door down a liquor store. I pop in. Grab a half pint of rum. Stuff it all in my tennis bag

I love me my American strip malls!!

Walking down the street.. Walking the streets with several felonies in hand. the survival skills of late stage addiction.. Somehow through all  my years of drug abuse, I'd managed to avoid jail, but I was in a different kind of prison.. These bars were on the inside. (animation of a guy trapped in his head)

And my party life had all come full circle. all that technicolor glow of the first beer was gone.. I was back to the sad depressing hues of black and white, drapes pulled, doors locked and blocked, my life a party bizarre, drugs a 24/7 eclipse of all that was good in this world. 

Talking to the Camera as I walked toward my hotel room..

And this was how I would live my life for the next several years, getting high every day, suicide on the installment plan, my life slowly, ever slowly circling the drain. And things would get a little grim, dealing with lesser and lesser companions on a daily basis

Occasionally I'd shack up with a broad. I was a tennis pro in Southern California with a full head of hair and there's always a gal looking for a guy to sleep with whose problems were worse than her own. And fittingly, the rocks in their heads fit perfectly into the holes in mine, with those trysts always ending badly, sending me back alone with my demons to a motel near you

Some would say my life was like Groundhog day, endlessly repetitive, all shadow, little hope..

I prefer Nick Flynn's take on life...It was Another Bullshit Night in Suck City

A "functioning" meth addict I'd become. Not many of us out there. Didn't say I was high functioning, but compared to my fellow tweakers, I was in a different league. We're pretty unemployable. Hard to take care of yourself when you're high 24/7. So our choices are slim. And our fates near assured. Not to be overly dramatic, but these adventures in living end in only one of 3 ways... jail, insanity or death.. yet there was always that elusive 4th outcome, though its been so far out of reach I don't talk of it much..That 4th one is somehow giving it all up and achieving sobriety.

Sobriety, you elusive bitch!! Repeatedly throwing my life away didn't get me to stop. One would have hoped those bottoms would have woke me up. No, it was going to take a different kind of bottom for me. Something deeper, emotional, an epiphany of sorts, heavenly or earthly. Can't be too picky at this point.

For you never can know what its gonna take.

(Walking up the steps of my motel)

For the drug addiction journey is long, or its not (ambulance carrying OD kid out w blanket over his head)..I warned the kid to slow down... It starts innocently enough.. Your first beer (show images)  I was so young.. My life changed that day. I became obsessed with feeling different.. It was like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz..from black and white, drab, Kansas to boom, the technicolor wonders in the land of Oz.. but somewhere through it all, you going from being the life of the party to partying the life right out of you.. Its imperceptible and anonymous and somewhat sad, addiction takes all then demands more.

But every now and then, one of us gets saved by an amazing grace... and if all falls right, we get to share our stories for you all like I've done here tonight..

For as I head up these steps like any other of 1000 addict days, I never in a million years could have imagined this would be my last day ever abusing drugs, but it was. 

(breaks the 4th wall) Looks to the camera as he reaches the door to his hotel room..

As they like to ask in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous, How'd you do it?

Well, let me tell you how it all went down...

(Enters hotel room w pizza box.. Shouts of PIZZA!! come from inside the room. The show Card Sharks is on the blaring TV.. HIGHER!! LOWER!! The story of our lives..

(Walk in to my room, people everywhere getting high.. Somebody set me up!!  A glass bong brought over, I take a room filling hit of puffy white smoke.. Tasty clouds..

Someone comes out of the bathroom..."Pizza!!!" 

People gather around.. I open the top box. "Your fast is over" its a large Pepperoni Pizza.. Help yourselves.

I open up the second box and its full of plastic baggies and pill jars all wrapped up.. I divvy up the packages..  "Ho Ho Ho!!! A degenerate Christmas!"

Peeps start tearing in to their packages, taking their last hits/shots/snorts before heading out into the night..

You all gotta hurry up.. I'm getting picked up soon. Can't have all you meth heads around

As the last person leaves, I shut the door and as I walk to the closet, I turn to the camera: As you can see, I don't get out much. Not that this is any kind of haven, but to leave here is to leave my drugs and I simply can't be away from them for too long.

I know that may sound dramatic, but I haven't inhaled a sober breath in over a couple years now. Not a single one. 

I walk over to the counter, in the bathroom, I open a drawer.. "If I run out of this, I take that (show small pharmacy of pills. Of course, I don't run out of this. You simply can't. Or you'll crash. So every time I score, I put a nice chunk away  (go to the safe in closet. open up, dump a rock in my rock collection. My rock collection. My crystal collection..

"But I can't get high at concerts the way I need to, (taking another huge hit from a pipe)  so I don't go out much anymore. But my friend Adam insisted I come tonight so here goes nothing.."

"I've been to a lot of Phish shows w Adam" (pictures of us at Phish)

"We're going with another couple I've never met, so I'll have to be on my best behavior, or at least not my worst, so no tripping, no glass pipes or anything. Its a PG 13 night for sure"

 I'm chopping powder up and cutting and recutting it.. "Just a couple bumps to tie me over if I start to sweat" (fix up bindle, straw)

Phone text comes in. Its Adam..Two minute warning..

Get in car.. There's 4 of us.

Me: "What do we have ourselves in to tonight..Think there will be a Shakedown? (shakedown is the name of the area at hippy shows where the drugs are sold)

Adam: "This is going to be totally different.. Its a  Symphony w Trey, so no phones, no in and outs during songs, no smoking, no drinking, no dancing"

Me: "No nitrous???"

Adam: "No, the Nitrous Mafia are sitting this tour out"

(to the camera) I knew this was a mistake.. Way too much reality, coming up..

Conversation begin about their start-ups and buying homes and the kids they're about to have and their investments.. I sit quietly in the back looking out the window. I have nothing constructive to add.

Signs for Walt Disney Hall.. drive by, see sign for Trey Anastasio and the LA Phil.. Thank God, Get me out of this car..

All the hippies walking by, all dressed up.. 

"Look at all the cleaned up hippies!!"

"No Wooks allowed"

"Showers required tonight"

We pull in, parking amid the nicer vehicles. We get out. A joint comes out. 

Anything stronger?

No man. I just don't think its that kind of show.

I'll be right back. I take a hit, then wander off toward a growing group at corner of lot. I approach. Hey, do you know if there's a shakedown tonight?

Was thinking same thing myself. Show starts in 15 minutes so I'm guessing no. Gotta enjoy this one as is.

First time for everything I guess.. Peace out

I rejoin my friends. The pre-show tone is subdued. Nobody is all that sure what's about to transpire..

We enter. There's a handbill handed out with all sorts or rules. No cameras, no ins and outs, no dancing.. we're escorted to our seats.. The LA Phil is going through its pre-performance check lists

Show starts.. Images flash by, song, after song, the evening rolls on.. I'm squirmy, uncomfortable, take a walk, go to the bathroom, do a bump..come out.. Look in the mirror.. I'm a shell of myself.. Can't even enjoy Trey and Phish music.. How bad do you suck..

Slow pretty song starts, and it starts to hit me. I tell my Trey history, how I've been chasing him around for 20 years, how he almost lost his life to addiction and how he's always been my rock and roll hero. I've never met him, but I feel like I know him, having seen him perform over a 100 times. But he almost lost his life to alcoholism and addiction, yet here he was, up on the stage, clean and sober and killing it.

The song begins to soar and I can't stop the tears. At song's conclusion, huge roar of applause. I bolt from my seat to take another walk. To the restroom again.. I find an open stall. I sit. Sill sobbing and sniffling, I pull out my last bit of stash. look at it. set it up on the toilet paper dispenser like 10,000 times before. Pull out a credit card, draw myself a line.. I prepare my straw. I stare down at it. I begin to lean down on it. A big tear drops right on the dispenser, wetting my meth.. I pause. I stare down. I pause again, looking at the wet line. In frustration, I wipe it from the ledge, throwing baggy and straw in toilet and flush.. 

Still empty rest room.. I go to mirror.. sad wet eyes..splash water on my face I catch my eye again.. "What have you done to yourself.."

Back to my seat. The whole orchestra ebbs and swells to the conductor. Trey rocking out, the crowd joining in. I'm getting uncomfortable again. 

And then a strange feeling overcame me. I became overcome with envy at Trey. Not because he's some famous rockstar, but that he suffered from the same alcoholism and addiction I struggled mightily with, but he was clean and sober and living out his artistic dreams to the fullest and I so wasn't.  

He had been in big trouble, hopeless even. Had broken up his juggernaut band Phish with his 3 best  friends. Addiction, it takes everything, then asks for more

And it almost took all of him as it was taking all of me. But look at him now. It can be done, people do get better.

Then my favorite song began. If I Could, the refrain repeating over and over, If I could I would, but I don't know how..Over and over and over.  Have truer words every been spoken?

Take a look  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZlDSzxBCUU

The song soars, the solo hits and I'm ugly crying hard now and I don't care. I just let it all out.

Then the thoughts began. Did I have another recovery in me?  The last time my life functioned somewhat well was when I was sober. I got all the things back, the house job car girl, but I never got the serenity. I didn't understand the Bipolar and how it worked upon my mind..But now I do..

Could I do this one more time.. Could I at least try?  

I'm a couple years from 50.. There's more line behind me than in front of me, but none of that stuff can matter anymore. Get sober first and we'll deal with all that life stuff later.

It'd been so long since I've had meaningful sobriety. Over 15 years since my last cake.. 15 years.. what a run.

But I have to try one more time. I can kick. Its not fun, but I've done it before. I have a couple bucks. I can ride the detox out in my room.

Driving home. My friends talk about the show but I'm a million miles away, plotting out the next week's withdrawals. Staring out the window. Liquor stores and bars at every corner. 

To the camera: "How's anybody stay sober in this world?"

I get dropped off. I enter my room. I light a cigarette. " One vice at a time. I'll deal with you later..

I call the pizza place. My guy answers.  Just pizza this time. Bring me a couple larges. 

I go to the closet, pulling all my stash and paraphernalia out on the table.. every vial and pill and pipe.. and slowly start purging, dumping down the toilet, my face in various states of incredulity.

One part exhilarating, one part wtf am I doing.  I get down to my final bottle of pills, I pour them out.   Two xanax left. I'm gonna need you guys. Lets sleep as much of this off as possible

My guy shows up with the Pizzas. 

"You sure you don't need anything? I just got the bomb in.

I'm good man. I'm gonna try and kick. You take care of yourself. I'll send my misfit minions your way when I come up for air.

"Good luck man. You can do it." we share an awkward warm embrace. 

You were the best slinger ever, (dealer)

Ahh dude, You were my best custie. (customer)  

Our relationship fated to end someday someway. For those who picked sobriety, come to the window and cash your tickets.

I survey the room. Drapes pulled, door locked and bolted.. I have food, I have fluids, A bottle of Advil, TV on. I pay for my room for the week..

Check phone. Turn ringer off. And settle in

Images of withdrawing, sweating, vomiting, cramping..restless sleep, another look in the mirror destroyed.. The Before picture, Will there be an after?

I awaken..25 missed calls, 100 texts from all sorts of randos.. To the camera: You never know how important you are to the underground economy until you quit.

I check the front door. there's messages taped up and down. Call me, call me. You want a good barometer of how you're doing in life, disappear for a day or two and see who's trying to find you

I get back in bed for another stretch...

And if I told you this was the easy part, you'd paint me insane.. Of course, there's nothing easy about any of this. But as the great Nelson Algren said... when I'm high, I only have one problem, to keep staying high.  Now that I'm stopping, I got a 100 problems and they can't wait to rush forward and ruin all the new sober feels.

A couple more days pass. More fitful sleep, tossing turning sweating I eventually emerge from the darkness. I open the drapes. I walk outside. Strong Dracula vibes. but I emerge to a beautiful day. And so would begin my slow re-entry to society as a sober man.

With a new sobriety date  And that Thomas Carlyle poem.. I can't remember the build up but something about on to him, a new day is born

All begun on March 10th, 2012. Struck sober at a Phish show of all places. 

Oh the absurdity of it all.. 

 

Next and final segment would entail my journey from that first week of sobriety til the finishing of my book on my ten year sobriety anniversary. Have tons of ideas about how to wrap it all up..

 

 

West Coast Talks XXXX

 The 5 P’s are Persistence, Patience, Practice, Perseverance, Presence.

The Central Tension in My book..

April 1983.. I was on a roll.. I walked on a tennis court for the defending NCAA Champion UCLA Bruins undefeated.. I had won my fist 22 dual matches, tying Jimmy Connors record on the brink of setting all kinds of records at

A year later. I had dropped out of school, quit the team giving my tennis scholarship back to live in my van to drink and drug around the clock

What happened

Well, it was happening all along..

I was a young American tennis player striving for success at our sport with a serious undiagnosed mental health disorder, a disorder I began dangerously self-medicating at the ripe old age 14 to only be properly diagnosed at age 37.. And for those who read the past couple chapters of my book, No Spoilers by the time of my diagnosis,  as I was about to find out my wires were dangerously crossed by the time, leaving to a series of absurd miracles and divine interventions to allow me to be standing before you here tonight 

What was happening in plain site was happening 40 years ago.. yet all the important people in my life hadn't the first clue what to look for, not the least being myself

But an important caveat.. This was many many years ago and nobody knew anything...  not my coaches, not my parents, not my years of teachers, not UCLA, not Junior Davis Cup, not the USTA, not the least being myself.. Nobody knew anything about alcoholism, addiction, I didn't know anybody sober.. and I certainly didn't know anyone with undergoing treatment for their mood disorder.

So there's no blame here.. everybody gets a pass.. 

But now we know a lot.. And the question I ask today is what happens if the me of 40 years ago rolls into to town today, troubled and talented.. 

Are there programs and guardrails in place to help keep young people afflicted like myself from throwing their lives away and never being able to see their talents through, if not worse. 

I'm going to come back to this question in a bit..

So tonight I'd like to talk about mental health with you all .. How do we diagnose it, is it preventable, is it treatable, and how I came to contract Bipolar Disorder at such a young age..

Mental health has been in the news a lot of late.. 

Sports: Simone Biles, Ben Simmons, Michael Phelps  Tennis: Mardy Fish Naomi Osaka, Nick Kyrgios.. And lets throw Ash Barty into the mix.. She quit tennis not once but twice..

Society: Robin Williams, Anthony Bourdain, David Foster Wallace, Chris Cornell

But Most importantly, today's youth are struggling... Last year, The Surgeon General declared a National Emergency.. sharp spikes in depression, anxiety, suicide, self-harm and suicidal ideation  

These illnesses have been around forever.  Are we just getting better at diagnosing them or is there something changing right now in society?

Surgeon General National Emergency

For when we were kids, the concerns 

National: That means the whole nation, that means all of us need to be involved to turn this around.hese illnesses have been around forever.  Are we just getting better at diagnosing them or is there something changing right now in society..

Where is all this coming from? 

Science has concluded mental health disorders develop one part genetic and the other environmental..

WE KNOW MORE THAN EVER, WE'RE DOING MORE THAN EVER, YET THINGS ARE GETTING WORSE

HOW CAN WE GET THIS TREND TO SWING THE OTHER DIRECTION

I'd like to talk about the environmental side of how I grew up, most importantly, my troubled relationship with my Father

born Middle son to harvey and barbara.. I had an older brother Larry and a younger brother Jerry..Larry Barry Jerry.. don't ask..

My Dads claim to fame, he worked at the first ever McDonalds.. he met my mother there..he gave her free fries.. they were married a year later.. Who needs dating apps

My Dad was intense. Brilliant mathematician, one of the original writers of software he immediately became a man in demand in  the aerospace industry, moving us to the east coast to the suburbs. 

He was also quite obsessive.. Furniture, motorcycles, computer, Halleys Comet

 But he had his demons too. Always drinking and smoking. Literally every memory of my father as a youth he had a beer in his hand..He was so erratic though.. Fits of manic activity, computer  followed periods of dark brooding.. with a booming voice and a volcanic temper that could flare at any moment 

He ruled our house by fear..  It was a breeding ground for anxiety... My brothers and I.. When he would leave I could finally relax

But my Dad was obsessed with special people, 

but particularly child prodigies. Mozart, Bobby Fischer, the tennis player Maureen Connolly, the physicist Richard Feynman.. People who achieved world greatness while still being in their teens My Dad might have been a child prodigy too, but he never got his chance. And as life was back then, before he reached his 30th birthday, he was married with 3 kids, punching the clock 9-5 for the rest of his working life, a mortgage and his life was pretty well locked in, and though he never got his  chance he was determined that if any of his kids showed promise of being great at something, he was going to run with that as far as he could

 My Dad might have been a child prodigy too, but he never got his chance. And as life was back then, before he reached his 30th birthday, he was married with 3 kids, punching the clock 9-5 for the rest of his working life, a mortgage and his life was pretty well locked in, and though he never got his  chance he was determined that if any of his kids showed promise of being great at something, he was going to run with that as far as he could

EARLY APTITUDE TESTS And sure enough, those early aptitude tests we take as little kids, I scored off the chart on a few, giving my Dad the idea that maybe I was the one who could become special 

So he devised a plan  Math and Chess.. Eventually he'd stop with the lessons.. I was good, but not good enough to be special and he'd be off on his next obsession..  egomaniac with an inferiority complex mixed feelings about the mixed messages

Organized sports the burbs provided, but there was always this one sport that remained elusive.. a couple times a week my Dad would go to the closet and pull out these wood rackets

As with most athletic young kids, team sports were a part of my upbringing...But there was always this one sport that seemed so intriguing.. couple nights a week my Dad would go to the closet and pull out these beautiful pieces of wood...Then one weekend dad was away.. He comes home with a trophy.. remember staring at the trophy thinking I gotta get me one of those

And it was that night I asked my Dad if I could play tennis for the first time

So the next weekend we had family tennis.. My first time playing, I'm sure I sucked, but my Dad must have seen enough in me, that the next morning, at 459 am

Learning tennis wasn't so easy back then.. there was no bump or jungleball green dot, very few coaches no junior rackets.. used your dad's extra.. he would shave the grip down so I could hold it

I missed a lot  and  lets just say my Dad's bedside manner wasn't very mannerly.. so I'd get an earful of that old school Father-son motivational talk

And many of those mornings were miserable, ending in tears and drama.. And for most kids it would have turned them off to tennis.. But it had a somewhat different effect on me, it turned me off to missing

Best way to get Dads approval was to not miss...Don't miss, don't get yelled at.. the quintessential negative incentive.. a parenting style quite frowned upon in today's climate

And my Dad and I would do this dance the next couple years.. We had a little routine we did.. warm car

Then all of a sudden, I stopped missing so much..so my Dad did would every tennis parent does,,he entered me into my first tournament..and after getting my butt handed to me a few times, it happened

Tournament Shuffle

I went to play a tourney and against kids a head taller than me, I won it and my first trophy.. and oh boy, was it on.. I never let go of it except to slurp my victory milk shake.. i slept with it, took it to school.. it was awesome, my first trophy

But everything changed that night with my dad.. 

 maybe tennis was the activity i was to be great at.. What did they know.. what do any of us know about managing an aspiring career.. Because delusional or not, if an undersized kid like me from a sleepy suburb in tewksbury Mass, who was completely self-taught could go from where I was to setting records at UCLA only a few years later, it can happen to anybody 

So now Dad, being the obsessive he was, got busy..toss box in the garage, lines on the driveway and garage door, surveyors, moving the family to a larger lot to build a court 

But being all in meant playing tournaments and it turns out if your parents are really into it, a kid can play a tourney darn near every weekend  And that became me and my Dad

The tournament shuffle.. The week of the house becomes a command center..the only payoff was winning, Traveling.. Away from his life and family ..The only payoff was winning, but not just winning.. perfectly played, perfectly behaved..but not just winning, complete performances. .He demanded PERFECTION.. And when I came up short, which was darn near always, I heard about it often in the passenger seat of his sports car on those long drives home 

So My dad became a tennis parent.. Tennis is hard, parenting is hard, tennis parenting is darn near impossible, because you identify with your kid.. A part of you is playing..And if you think playing is hard, try watching a loved one.. Its agonizing

So the pressure to win got increasingly intense.. For to lose put me on the wrong side of conditional love

So developed a few ticks..Cheating, Tantrums, Choking, Tanking, .. It was the tantrums that stood out the most.. Cheat, but if that wasn't working, the anger would come, not because I was losing, but for how I was going to be treated for losing, those drives home I'd be ground zero for his raging temper..that somehow this tennis result became a referendum on my value as a young human being.. And I was only 12 years old

So I started taking on some water.. The stress of tennis, the moodiness at home, changing schools while being incredibly awkward, my erratic Dad week after week.. The whole thing was stressful, perfect breeding ground for anxiety...And it wasn't just me.. My brothers struggles too.. My older brother started putting on weght, my younger brother withdrew and would have his own set of struggles

And all this was going on when my Dad up and decided to move the family cross country to right here, in the beautiful South Bay of SoCal

The year was 1978.. And the tennis boom was on! What Torrance lacked in curb appeal, it more than made up for in tennis.. Seemed every couple miles and up popped another 20 court tennis facility.. Rancho Verde RHPRC La casa de vida (now south end) West end MBCC

So we joined RHPRC where I made my first real friends in live

Times were different back then  The Unsupervised.. You can only play so much tennis..Lotta of time to kill

Driving around in the van  My FIRST BEER

And my life changed that day... I could feel better, and it quieted my mind.. 

After that night I became obsessed with feeling different.. The next couple years I would spend every waking moment either high, going to get high.. It was ridiculous.. I couldn't even drive yet.

Yet nobody knew.. I was able to keep it a secret.. Nobody around me suspected anyting, nobody aroud me knew the first thig to look for

AND IT WAS AROUND THIS TIME I STARTED TO THINK SOMETHING MIGHT BE WRONG WITH ME OR DIFFERENT

The way I partied, the way my mind raced all the time, the crippling anxiety I felt at all times when I wasn't on something.. But these were the thoughts in my head and I had nothing to compare them to.. Public, Private Secret There's no way whats going through my  mind could be going through theres.. I was in awe of the elite players.. Because I knew how my mind reacted to the stress of comp..

Typical teenage burnout

And none of this would have been all that noteworthy, wasn't going anywhere and doing anything exemplary until something weird happened. 

At the last possible second, I got really good

ojai south bay cif couple local pro tourneys.. all of a sudden Coach Bassett was coming to the house for dinner and offering a scholarship to play bat UCLA

In a hail Mary i write a letter to the USTA and I mnanage to get in to JDC tryouts, where I swept through my group undefeated and making the US JDC.. 

Now I got the USA on my back, about to have the letters UCLA on my shirt and I could not have been more uncom in my skin

The Opportunity Tour..

And I might have been fine if I could have stayed to myself, but I'd been able to keep my addiction a secret up to this point.. Which was good for keeping me out of trouble, but unfortunately the diseases of alcoholism and addiction are progressive.. It takes more and more to feel the same.. and we begin to show signs of powerlessness..over when we use, how much we use, and what happens when we use

I wanted this opportunity.. I wanted it so badly, but I needed to get high too.. And need trumps want every time

all the attention, all the success...the stress of it all.. I simply wasn't being built for this

Enter UCLA  defending NCAA Champions.. Glenn Bassett.. My first ever coach, and boy did I respond. Every day, double sessions.. There were 7 guys and 1 spot .. But now I'm living alone and I find out I can drink every night ..which of course I do.. who knew there were so many variations of the game Quarters

Im 18.. I'm still somewhat impervious to hangovers and such, so I trained and I trained and I got the eye of Coach.. I wanted this and made sure He saw that I wanted this

And low and behold I got the last spot

ITA player of the month.. Cover stories in all the papers.. Thank God there was no social media back then.. But it was a lot.. and I just kept winning, 10, matches, 15 matches  And Coach bassett had this rule, you win, you move up, you lose you go down  Our number 1 guy gets hurt.. All of a sudden I', bumper up to #1 singles for a hot minute

We used to do introductions on Court 1.. And everybody goes to their court.. And I got to stay.. I'm playing #1 singles at UCLA where less than a year ago I was a complete burnout going nowhere

You Can Get There From Here

Pause here.. To the parents.. Williams 

 By the time in my life people began to realize something might be wrong with me, it was way too late. My self-medicating alcoholism/addiction was so advanced, it was going to take a miracle, maybe a couple of miracles

And I would lose that match that day to USC.. Boo!!!.. 8 in a row to be exact.. and the wheels started to come off..And hard, so much so a year later I was living in that same van we drove cross country wondering what happened to me

The next decade or so would be a graphic dysfunction with me finally finding my way to treatment for my alcoholism..and even though...But it would still be another decade before being properly diagnosed.. and another decade from there before finally getting the two illnesses inder control such that I can stand here now and share my story.. 

It took me a long time to figure out that putting myself under increased stress with an undiagnosed untreated mental illness not only didn't make things better, it made them worse. Yet I would keep coming back to tennis for the ordering principle in my life.. System Restore

IMPORTANT TAKEAWAY:  This is where we have to get better...if a person has underlying conditions, placing them under increasing amounts of stress is not going to make matters better, as a matter of fact, it will matters measurably worse, so much so, people will engage in dangerous coping techniques or quit way before seeing their talents all the way through..

Again, there is healthy stress, where we develop resilience and confidence.. Intense toxic stress, you just want it to be over..long term low grade stress.. the subject is defenseless.. and continuing to place them under increasing stress doesn't end well

So What can we do?  

TENNIS HAS UNDERGONE several major transformnations.. popularity, professionalism, global, equipment, training.. I believe strongly that mental health and wellness will be the next frontier

Control what we can control.. Preparation, Attitude, effort

ENVIRONMENT

COMPASSION 

Quotes

As a society, and on a smaller level as an industry, we're leaving so much to chance.. 

This is our wake up call.. the surgeon general annouced a National emergency.. Thats all of us

Step one.. Expand our circle of compassion

Start a conversation.. Be able to explain it well

AS AN INDUSTRY>>>>Understand the environment we're putting kids in.. Beach, Mountains, MOving, Jr Tennis

National: That means the whole nation, that means all of us need to be involved to turn this around

Einstein: Extend our circle of compassion

We have to start early

 An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.. 

Its easier to build strong children than to fix broken men.. FD

 

In the process of designing a course, A First Ball to Last industry wide initiative, where all parties involved in tennis .. Players Parents, Coaches Organizations.. expanding our emotional literacy and emotional intelligence, building an immune system against the challenges we will face playing such a mentally and emotionally demanding

 

we have to learn how to talk about it... And after watching the way Osaka and Biles and Simmons were treated, no wonder nobody wants to speak up

We need to Learn how to listen.. Because kids will not be able to articulate whats going on, but they will show you and thats what I'd like to talk to you about here..

All indications are this isn't going away..This isn't going away..

Its A NATIONAL EMERGENCY..  

Its important we act soon its not going to fix itself.. for this is not going away any time soon

Before I close tonight

Wrap with this.. All the crazy.. its never planned.. But what we do plan is the regrouping.. Addicts, we're constantly planning, but unless you're able to tame the beast, the plans never pan out.. But the planning plays a certain role.. Keeps you attached to life, to hope, to the belief that things could get better if I could just do a little more of this or that..

But at some point, you just stop.. You can't even believe yourself anymore

But at some point you just stop, because maybe your loife's in the hands of a power greater than your self

In recovery its said if you wanna make god laugh, tell him your plans

So somehow I stopped planning and plotting, and now a guy like me who's politics are to the left of karl marx lives in Nashville married to a conservative gal from Iowa while listening to country music all day and i live a fricking hour from Alabama.. not sure how you plan that stuff out, but I've never been healthier or happier

I'm asked frequently if I regret all the lost years.. sure, would have loved to see my talents all the way through in every field, tennis and academics..

But I would have missed so much more

and sobriety..my northern star

Atlantic City

Summer of 1992: I'm 27.. Driving cross country back to the Hamptons for my summer tennis teaching job with the girlfriend in her little blue Toyota talking about how our lives got off the rails from us in Riverside, Ca that Spring, (drinking, drugging, dropping out of school) with the promise of doing better. We agree to stay away from the old haunts and certain people. Those people are just too much fun.

Driving: Beautiful Scenery. I-80 East. Its green, its hilly, we have tunes. Lotta Grateful Dead. I Know You Rider. We're quiet, at peace, sharing positive glances. We have a little fist bump thing we do. I put my fist out. She bumps me back. We got this... Driving..We Pass the iconic green sign ..Welcome to New York..The Empire State.

The NYC skyline appears in the distance. Storm clouds off on the horizon, foreshadowing that all is not well for our near future..

Driving through Long Island, Signs for the Hamptons appear. We start to get excited. Big summer, Big Plans. Lets crush it. Arrive at Summer  Pro House for the Hamptons. The housemates are bbq-ing and partying hard. Ask us if we want a beer, we both say no, say we're trying to be healthy. The party is on, people getting wasted, the joints come out. 

We excuse ourselves, go to our room,  start unpacking to make our room livable.. Laying there relaxing, making small talk.. Then the music starts blasting. Early 90's hair metal. Not sure what's worse, the volume or the music.

I ask if they can turn it down. 

Pro 1: Seriously???  First week of summer in the fabulous Hamptons, we're just getting warmed up. Sleep when the season's over!!

Me: Dude, we just drove 3000 miles. We're wiped out. Can you maybe take it easy just for tonight?

Pro 1: Alright man.. But if you're going to live in the pro house, you gotta fire up

(To my gf)  Does he have the first conception who he's talking to..

Obviously not.. as she yells "Thank you and good night" to the party out front..

Recurring theme throughout summer. Come home, they're raging at the house. GF and I end up going out a lot, to drive around and get dinner while the party rages at home.. Bars and Liquor stores everywhere. I'm surrounded. Talk is of being healthy, of getting in great shape,  but she can tell I'm wavering a little.. We pass my favorite bar.. I ask if we can go in to say hi to the boys... She says absolutely not, so not a good idea, not now, we just got here, lets get in to a good rhythm before we even consider that

Me: Can I take that as a maybe

GF: Maybe later this summer, but not tonight

Me: So there's a chance

GF: C'mon.. This isn't easy for me either. I can't do it for both of us. I need you to be strong too. You promised

Me: You're right. I'm just goofing.. We're good. The boys can wait..

We end up in Southampton.. having a nice simple dinner. We drink water. She asks how many days sober I have.. I tell her 29, one short of a month and a 30 day chip...Finishing up, we agree to walk downtown to get an ice cream

 

Walking down Main Street South Hampton. Beautiful night, feeling healthy, a little hope. Give the gf a  hug. and we do our fist bump..We got this. We can do this. We can build a life here.. (trying to be hopeful)

We have our ice cream.. Its idyllic.. Sun setting, the golden hour.. Families and dogs and kids all shiny and bright.. We give our table over to a family with a newborn.. 

"Maybe we can have one of those soon.  Would you want a boy or a girl? "

Back on Main Street passing the restaurant 75 Main.. The Maitre De Chris sees us (used to work at gf's and my old restaurant Sapporo Di Mare) He gives gf a huge hug, kiss kiss. Everyone doing catch up talk.. Chris insists we come in and let him buy us a drink.. We push back. Thank you thank you, but we can't

Chris insists..I will not hear of it. You two get in here right now. We have to catch up right now

We push back harder...Chris seriously.. We just got to town and we're going to have a healthier summer. Too crazy last year.

Chris: I hear you. But come in for just one. I promise that will be it

And that's all I needed. I looked at my gf. She looked warily back at me

Me: How about just one honey?

GF: Are you sure? I don't want to start up again.

ME: One and we go straight home, I promise. You are convincing Chris!!

Chris: You two get in here right now  He seats us at the bar, waves the bartender over.

VOICE OVER: And its the first drink that gets you drunk..For I never had just one and once I started, I never went straight home.. Now with the beast awakened (was it ever really asleep), another crazy fun night in the Hamptons had begun

For one led to two as another table of friends saw us at the bar, inviting us over just as other friends entered the bar, greeting us and cheering us for our triumphant return to NY for another summer .. And two led to 3 and 4 and we were soon out on the town, on our way to get drugs and party back at Danas friend's house, which led to a 3-some with me Dana and her gf, me sitting in the chair doing lines watching the two of them go at it. Flash to us all waking up in her bedroom overlooking the beach and the Atlantic ocean

Let me state for the record, all my years of partying were not all doom and gloom..

Driving home in silence. I reach across to hold her hand. 

Me: "Well, that was kinda hot."

Her: " Of course it was, its always hot with her, and you, and us.. Party, drugs, dress up, fuck like porn stars all night.. What's not hot about it?  But how are we supposed to get anywhere this way? That's not how I want to live my life anymore. How are we ever going to settle down. How are we ever going to start a family. I mean, where are we going with this? The same thing every time.. Up all night, blowing money, partying too much, feeling like shit in the morning. Can we just pause the crazy for a bit?

I pause.. Its silent between us as we drive back to our home, lives, jobs and daily grind. I hustle in the house, throw my tennis stuff on, tell her I'm teaching late and I'll pick her up for dinner right after work.

 

Finishing work, Sun setting.. Beautiful night. Private court at a ridiculous Hamptons estate, get handed a nice 100 dollar tip. 

I pack up my car. My clients go inside. I look at myself in the rear view mirror, Big sigh, I'm wiped out. 

(To myself) Maybe get some sleep if you're going to teach all day in the brutal summer heat..

 I'm aging, slight hair receding, I see a scar on my forehead I never knew I had. A few wrinkles, a tiny bit of gray.. I look like shit, but I got a Benjamin in my hand burning a hole in it. Driving home, I light a cigarette, more Grateful Dead..Driving by my favorite bar, seeing my favorite peeps cars in the parking lot. I pass, look back, look at the hundred,  look back again, make an illegal u-turn right on the highway and head to Omalley's Bar to see my fav bartender Howie..

We meet, we greet. hooting and hollering.. Without saying a word, Howie pours me a pint. I hustle to the payphone to call the gf.. 

Hey, I just stopped in to O'malleys to see Howie and Mike. I'll be quick..

GF:  Ok, I'll wait for you here for dinner

And one beer leads to two and the jokes and laughter intensify as more friends come in, a close NBA Finals game on  tv about to start..

Howie the bartender: "You want to get down on the game?"

Me: Of course. I pull out my hundred, slapping it on the bar.. Give me a C-Note on the Bulls.. Game begins, we're all huddled around the bar and the tv and the beers keep flowing..I keep panning to the clock, half hour, hour, two hours.. Game goes down to the wire, the beers keep flowing., Everyone is hooting and hollering on every play. I eventually realize how late I am, jumping up right when the game is about to be decided

Everyone: Where the hell are you going??!!

ME: I forgot to call the gf and tell her I'm gonna be late. 

More hooting and hollering from the bar as I hustle to the pay phone

By now I'm pretty hammered.. I call the gf.. She's pissed. I tell her to take a cab and come meet me at the bar.. 

GF:  Oh, I'm coming alright

Fifteen minutes later

I win my bet, get paid out. I'm buying everyone a round as I see a cab pull up in front and the gf jump out.... As I see her storming to the front door, I turn to Howie my bartender

Me: Better close me out Howie

She storms in pissed.. "Are you ready. You're only 3 hours late for dinner.."

Me: I'm sorry.. I hadn't seen these guys and I got caught up.. Say hi to Mike Howie and Joe.. 

GF: Hello Mike, Howie, Joe.. Good nite Mike, Howie, Joe... We're leaving now. Say goodbye and meet me outside

Embarrassed, I say my good byes over their laughter and cajoling. I walk out to my car where she's leaning against it, arms crossed, super pissed.. 

Me: "Why you gotta be like that?"

GF: "You promised it would be different this summer!"

Voices raising.. "Jesus..I just wanted to say hi to the guys. I hadn't seen them in a year. They're my only real friends out here."

"So you just blow me off and I have to take a cab down here and grab you just to get dinner??!! Seriously, we've been here less than a week and you're right back at it. THIS ISN'T GOING TO WORK!!!"

"Stop yelling.  You're making a scene."

I'm making a scene??!! Who the fuck didn't come home again?

"Ok, get in the car. (She starts to cry) I know, I know, Settle, settle down.. I know I promised. That's it. There's no one else I need to see. I'll reign it in, I promise, I promise

"You have to go to meetings. The counselor in Riverside said you have to go or you're not going to make it"

"I know, I know. I'll check around and find a good one. I know where the first one I ever went to in Wainscott is. That quaint little church. I'll hit it up tomorrow, I promise. I promise.. Here, you drive.. We get out of the car to switch seats.. I meet her in the middle.. I give her a big hug. She hugs me but doesn't. She's not happy with me at all.. I'll straighten up.. I promise..

 Voice Over: ( At that time in my life I had a few skills. I could walk in to a bar in any town in America, broke, thirsty, jonesing for drugs and walk out two hours later drunk, fed, on our way to score with a crisp borrowed 20 in my pocket.. One other skill I had was knowing exactly what to say to get people off my back when I fucked up..not the least being my current gf Dana..

NEXT AFTERNOON: 

Arrive early to the Wainscott Chapel.. Park on the grass, watching all the happy sober people smiling and chatting and hugging

VOICE OVER: And it was almost two years to the day that I stepped inside the little church in Wainscott for my first ever meeting of AA.. It was all so scary. All these sober people. There was something about them..They had this glow about them.  They seemed different than me. Free. Liberated. They had something I didn't have. They had something I wanted. A peacefulness about them. They showed me a couple years ago it was possible to live a different way, but I didn't stick with it and I'm sicker now.. As they warned, the disease progresses. Before, I was tired, clueless about recovery, sobriety and alcoholism, I just wanted to not feel like shit all the time. Now I'm scared, because alcoholism has a hold on me that's not letting go no matter how many meetings I attend or what anybody says. Its going to take some divine intervention to change my course, way more divine than anything going on in that church right now..

I get out of my car.. Start looking at the throngs of people heading in to the church on a beautiful weekday afternoon.. I start toward the door.. I know what its like in there and I'm just not ready to face myself

I reach the steps to the front door..The greeters greet me. Hello, thank you for coming. Welcome welcome. 

VOICE OVER: But you only feel welcome when you want to be somewhere, and sitting in an AA meeting on a beautiful summer's afternoon was absolutely NOT the place I want to be right now for every fiber of my being wanted a drink in that moment, not to listen to people talk about quitting drinking.

I find a seat in the back. The squawk of the main room is indecipherable. Voices mumbling below the buzz of the room. I'm squeezed into a seat between an older lady and a heavy set guy. No room, uncomfortable in every way.. I get up to go to the bathroom. In the bathroom there's a mirror. I take another long hard look at myself. I'm blank. Sad dead eyes, there's no joy in Mudville. I walk out..To the left is the meeting, there's clapping and cheering going on.. To the right there's a door that exits to the back. I pause.. I look left, to a room of healing. I look right, to a back door and a return to my troubled life. And it shouldn't have been a hard decision..but I wasn't ready for the laughing and cheering... I just wanted a drink. 

And out the back I went, on my way to start another bender..

Strong Music...Scenes of partying chaos and debauchery.. Not coming home, not showing up for lessons, waking up in all sorts of beds, running around town late at night at bars or scoring drugs.. Flashing to my girlfriend alone in bed, waking up alone, on the phone trying to find me. Scenes of tennis courts with lessons waiting for me to arrive, only to not come. Scenes of my boss fielding phone calls, scrambling pros to get to the houses I'm not showing up at.. Me finally coming to, calling the gf to pick me up in profound state of dilapidation. 

GF picks me up.. She's quiet for the moment..

Me: "Fuck..What am I going to do, I'm going to lose my job. I have to come up with a good one"

GF: "Don't even get me involved in this. I'm done with this, I'm done lying for you, I'm done covering for you. I'm just so done.

Me: Stressing hard and not hearing a word she said  "How am I going to explain this.. Jesus, what should I tell them?

GF: "You could just tell them the truth. That you have a problem. I mean, what are they going to say or do to you that's any worse than what you're doing to yourself?

Me: "What, tell them I'm completely out of control? Then what? Why would he want me anywhere near anybody at the club if he really knew how sick I was? He's just gonna blow me out. And we need the money..

GF: "Be nice if you thought about that before blowing all our money on  benders..

I'm quiet for a moment. We're driving. Thinking. Grinding.

Me: "Ok, here's the plan. You're gonna tell him I got arrested and you're going to get me out right now

GF: "Are you fucking kidding??!! I wish you would get arrested, Maybe you'd calm down for a few days and I could get some rest. This is killing me you know!! I can't sleep, I have a job too!! This is so insane..

Me: (Ignoring her completely again) Just tell him I got popped for possession or something, not coke, just pot, and just a little bit.. And I was driving w a suspended license or something like that. Tell him I need a couple days to get my shit figured out and I'll be in touch asap.

GF: To herself..I literally can't believe I'm doing this again. 

Me: Can you do this for me one last time. I promise I'll try harder

We drive on without her saying a word, finally I jump in..

Me: I'm sorry..

GF: What does that even mean anymore.. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.. It won't happen again. I swear..I'll change. I need to change, I want to change. I'll do it for you. I'll do it for us.. bullshit bullshit BULLSHIT!!! Here, maybe this will help you pull your head out of your ass. I'm late.

Me: Late, like period late? How late?

GF: Pretty late. Month late. Thought it might be from all the stress, but I can tell this isn't just late.

Me: Oh God.. Jesus, I can't even think about this right now.

GF: Obviously..

Me: Oh no.. God dammit! What the fuck should we do?

GF: Shaking her head.. subdued.."I have no idea.."

End scene driving off in silence

At home later. Gf has called work.. I clean up..

Me: " I'm going to a meeting tonight.".

GF: "Ok, do you want me to go with you?

Me: No, I'll be alright. I'm not even sure what kind it is. Open closed speaker book study.. I'm pretty clueless. I just called the number and they told me there was one tonight

GF: Ok..

Me: I'm gonna take your car.. Minds not running great.

GF: Maybe if you took it in like you said you were going to weeks ago

Me: I know, I know.. I will.. Ok, I'll see you in a little bit

SCENE:

Driving through the Hamptons.. Music, scenery, darkness creeping in.. I Arrive at a church with a bunch of AA old timers standing outside smoking, A grizzly crew they are.. The whole scene is grim. I walk in, grab a seat in the back by myself away from the throngs.. Go around the room, introducing ourselves.. 

The meeting asks if there's anyone in their first 30 days of sobriety and if they'd like to introduce themselves. I keep my head down, avoiding everyone's stairs..

Sharing begins.. Its long, rambling and meandering, making little to no sense as they talk sobriety and recovery, invoking God at regular intervals... with each reference of a power greater than myself i get a little more restless

I go grab some coffee, I grab a cookie, go to the bathroom.. Sneak a peak in the mirror but not in the mood of facing myself...I walk back to my seat. Look at my watch. Look at my watch again. Its still the same minute, a telltale sign I'm antsy.

Speaker concludes, during clapping, I get up and with my head down to avoid eye contact, I walk outside to my car. 

Get to my car.. Pause a moment.. I look in the mirror.. To myself.."What the fuck am I supposed to do..I can't party and I can't sit still long enough to get sober.. I get out, light a cigarette, and start heading toward the lights of westhampton village.. 

I'm in West Hampton.. Its Friday night and the weekend has begun.. I park and grab a slice.. Walking down the main street, I peek my head in to my favorite west Hampton bar.. My good friend from a couple summers ago is bartending. Haven't seen him in a while. I also see other Westhampton party friends there. I get the heroes welcome. 

After brief pleasantries, The shit talking starts flying immediately.

This is my social life.. bars, bartenders, drinkers and dealers. And they're all there in spades tonight.. 

Bartender: The usual? 

Me: Yeah, but with a little twist. A bourbon and coke, just hold the bourbon

Everyone: "WHAT??!!" As they fall all over themselves with incredulity

Me: Yeah, I gotta drive and get home early, long one tomorrow.

Bar friend 1: Don't we all? 

Bar friend 2: Never stopped you before

Bartender: Yeah, what's going on. So not like you

Me: Trying to cut back on my benders guys.. And can't a guy just come in and say hello?

Bartender: "Sure.. Diet Coke, coming up. Grab a stool and catch me up"

I look around the restaurant, seeing couples and families all dressed up for a nice evening's dinner. Then down at the end of the bar I see my old coke dealer sitting off by himself.  He eventually catches my eye and starts my way

Dealer: J Edgar Hoover.. Good to see ya

Me: Tony Montana, Always a pleasure

Everyone: Say hello to my little friend!! as they fake spray the room with machine gun fire

Dealer: What ya drinking? 

Me: Well, I was just having a Diet Coke

Dealer: Taking a break from the Double Jacks?

Me: Well, now that you're here..

Dealer To the bartender: "Double Jack for J Edgar here.." He taps my shoulder.. Follow me..

Dealer walks to the bathroom, looks back at me as I haven't moved yet. He waits in the doorway, looking back at me then waves me over with his head

I pause, I'm having an existential moment. My friends at the bar know what's up.. 

Friend 1: Mr Buss, your reservation for Stall one is ready..

I stand up. Look around at everyone's faces. Nobody knows what I'm going to do. I pause. I look at them, I look at the clock..

Me: Well, maybe just a taste.

I walk to the bathroom, looking back at the bar as I turn into the restroom, where the dealer's in the stall lining me up.. 

As I walk in, stall door opens. He hands me a rolled up hundred. "One for each, unless that left one still don't work."

Me: "Good memory! It could use some plumbing"

I walk in the stall.. Pause a second. I see myself in the reflection off the Toilet paper case.. Blurry fun house look.. I lean in, take two huge snorts... I snap up quickly, eyes watering, the rush to my brain noticeable.. Damn, that's the bomb.. You holding?

Dealer: Only balls..

Me: Jesus, A ball and I'll be going all weekend

Dealer: "You'll be growing strong though" As he says that, he hands me a huge chunk of coke in a plastic wrap.. "Don't forget to tip your dealer"

Me: "Now I'm going to need that double Jack"

Walking back out to the bar.. I'm going again.. A stiff drink awaits me as I start drinking hard.. I'm in the middle of an active bar conversation... but I'm not. The voice in my head starts gnawing at me.."What are you doing? This was so not the plan. How the fuck are you going to explain this? 

I start to drink faster and faster to quiet it down..

I'm on the move again. Buying drinks, taking shots, getting in cars, going to clubs, doing lines, ending up at houses. I have the gf's car and I haven't called in. Friday goes in to Saturday, Saturday melts into Sunday. I don't check in and I don't slow down. Its all a blur as I'm blacked out for most of Sunday

Coming to Monday morning. I see the world around me return to normal. Everyone getting ready to go to work or back to the city. The house I'm crashed at wakes me and tells me I have to go

I'm too fucked up to drive. I walk out, grab my racket bag from my car and start walking to the train station. The sun is rising, its cool in the morning. Cutting to images of home life. GF stressed out from not sleeping, me not showing up for lessons, boss stressing, everyone asking and calling around about my whereabouts, calling jail, calling hospital, my girlfriend eventually calls my parents, they don't pick up.. She doesn't leave a voicemail

Walking slowly to the train station..I'm drawn, I'm sad..Waiting for the train to come at the LIE Westhampton Station

The first hint of dawn.. I see the headlight of a train appear on the horizon. Its going East, back to East Hampton, Back to my home, job, gf, life.. I appear like I'm to get on it. The train leaves the station and I'm still standing there.  Seconds later, Another train arrives heading west to NYC.. and the great unknown.. 

VOICE OVER: And it shouldn't have been a hard decision., but I was pretty far gone and it had been a long time between good decisions for me as I boarded the westbound train, destination unknown with a  racket bag of beers and contraband.

The Long train ride.. Staring out the window, the horizon speeding by.. Its blurry, I'm blurry, there's strong music as we pass stop after stop.. After a couple hours I get off in Jamaica.. try to find a train to AC, but there's no direct shot.. I take one south toward Philadelphia, passing out along the way.. Come to in Philly and a total mess.. Blacked out now, Get on a bus for AC.. Its a battle, still drinking, still partying.. Finally arrive.. I'm a mess.. I get a hotel right by the Sands casino.. shower up, clean up, go to casino to gamble.. I'm hot, winning big.. The party continues.. Back at the hotel.. I have mounds of drugs.. I get a local magazine, I call a hooker..

Nervous.. Totally tweaking.. Hooker arrives.. Its a midweek, midafternoon Atlantic City hooker..not exactly Julia Roberts, but she's cute enough.. She comes in.. She sees I'm a mess.. She's nurturing, begins to tend to me. I'm very passive, sweating from everything.. She grabs a cool wash cloth and starts to help cool me down..I thank her. Ask about her day, her life.. She eventually shares her sad story, how she ended up in AC doing what she was doing. (will flesh out story  more) She has a child.. I ask to see her picture.. I tell her I have one on the way too.. 

Prostitute: You better take care of yourself mister. Diapers add up.. 

Me: Yeah, I'm on a bit of a tear here.. Hopefully I'll settle down..

Eventually she asks me what I want to do. I say nothing. Just relax. I just want some company. I'll pay you for your time.  She grabs the wash cloth again.. Wets it, comes to cool me off me again.. I lean in to her tenderness

Next Scene..

I shower and clean up

Prostitute: Slow down on that stuff. Its terrible for you

Me: I'll try. Its got a pretty good hold of me

P: I can see that... I have to go..

Me: How much do I owe you?

P: Just give me 200 and promise me you'll slow down

Me: I will.. I promise.. Thank you for being so nice..I'll call you soon. I'll want to see you again.

P: Ok... she comes up, gives me a kiss on the cheek.."You're sweet. Take care of yourself"

She leaves. Night continues. Gambling, drinking.. I still haven't checked in yet..I start getting paranoid, looking out the blinds every few minutes, then to the peep hole. Need to get out of the room.  Go back to the bar.. I'm drawing attention.. Go back to the casino.. It doesn't go well.. Back to the room.. I pay for another night..

Get inside.. I've been up for days now.. Start getting low on blow.. still paranoid, I'm sweaty, I'm twitchy.. I keep looking at the phone.. I came to a place where no one could find me. But now what?

Things start flashing fast.. To Home, To my Parents, to my club, back to my room, My mind is racing, I'm tweaking hard.. Stuck in a room.. There's a mirror.. What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck am i going to do?

The phone rings.. I jump.. Its the front desk asking if everything is ok

I assure them I'm fine.. but I'm not.. I keep trying to do lines.. My nose is thrashed.. Sitting there defeated.. Its quiet.. I'm sad. The reality of situation starts to hit me. I try to drink a beer, throw it across the room. Nothing is working anymore.. I need to pick up the phone.

I pick it up.. I call Girlfriend

GF: "Oh Thank god." Her relief at hearing my voice.. "Where are you? Where is my car?"

Me: "Umm, I'm not good. I'm in Atlantic city.

GF: You're where???

Me: Atlantic City.. New Jersey.. In a hotel.. what day is it?

GF: You've been missing for 5 days now.. Everyone's worried sick. Can you get home?

Me: I don't have the  car 

GF: Where is the car?

Me: Its at the train station in west hampton

GF: Oh jesus

Me: Can you come get me? I'm scared .. I've been up for days. i think there's people after me, looking to rob me, or worse. I'm afraid to leave my room..

GF: How am I supposed to come get you without the car?

Me: Can you call Joe?

GF: Jesus Christ.. And ask him what??!!

Me: If he'll come get me

GF: Jesus.. where are you?

Me: I don't know..Hold on.. I look at the phone.. I'm at the Continental Hotel..here's the address, phone number, room number

GF: I'm going to call you as soon as I get someone to take me down there.. DO NOT leave that room for any reason

Ok.. crying now..I mumble "I'm sorry"

GF: Just don't go anywhere.

 

 

VOICEOVER: And somehow, in spite of how sick and dysfunctional I was getting, I still had people who cared about me. But for how much longer?

Images of GF calling my friend Joe, her asking him coming to pick her up and drive her down to AC ( a six hour drive!!), flashes to me in my hotel room, paranoid, checking the peephole, looking out the shades, sweating, tripping..

The clock continues .. Hours later, stash done, I'm done, laying on my bed.. I hear a car pull up.. Its Joe and GF.. They come up cautiously.. I go with them.. 

Joe: "Lets get you home."

I fall asleep, twitching away.. pick up gf's car, finally arrive home.. Unpacking.. Cleaning up..My car is dead, Gf won't let me use hers.. Taking cabs to what lessons I have left.. Show up at one house for my regular time... someone else is there working with them. 

Client: "Listen, we're on vacation. We just want play some tennis, not all this drama. Take care of yourself. Maybe we try again next summer.."

I've lost nearly all my clients. I get through the week teaching clinics, but barely. Its Friday. Pay Day. My boss (Scott R) calls me in to his office.

Scott: "Are you ok? You're making us all nervous.. 

Me: Yeah man, sorry, this summer got away from me.. 

Scott: "Ya think? "Holding my check..."Should I even be giving this to you?"

Me: I know..I hear ya.. I'm settling down. 

Scott: Just one more week.. That's all I need from you..A week of mindless clinics. Take this.  Go home.. Get rested up.. I have you feeding all weekend. You show up and are yourself again, then we'll get you some offsite work, but not before you show me I can depend on you. You're my best pro. I need you out in the field. 

Me: taking the check "Thanks man. I wish I could explain myself better..I'll see you in the morning."

In downtown East Hampton, walking my check into my bank to cash it. I cash it. I'm walking through the village with a 1000 bucks in my pocket and I haven't had a drink all week, simply not a good combination.

Walking aimlessly around the village, people watching all the summer vacationers. Its a colorful eclectic ensemble. Its getting late in the day. I pass bar after bar.  I arrive at the bar I drank at all summer (O'Malleys) From the street, I look in. I see my friends at the bar and my fav bartender working. I approach slowly, looking through the glass window. Get close enough to the glass to see the blurry insides with my reflection looking back at me. I look tired, worn down, sad.. like I'm on the cusp of making another terrible decision..

VOICE OVER: And I'd reached that dangerous place for all drinkers..  I knew my drinking was killing me but to not have a drink felt like I was going to die

I take a seat on a bench on the sidewalk. Groups of summer revelers approach the bar door to enter. They see me sitting there

Them: "Coming in?"

Me: "Uh, not now, not tonight."

I continue to watch from the bench on the street, people entering the bar, setting up shop like I had a 100 nights before.. People leaving the bar in all sorts of fun and hilarity and joy

VOICEOVER: People having fun drinking, what a concept. But drinking for me wasn't fun anymore, hadn't been for a while now. What had started as fun when I was 14 was only problems now. There was no more laughter, even less adventure as the vice of alcoholism fastened ever tighter around me. Drinking had become dangerous, yet I had no idea how to stop. What I did know was after last weekends escapade in AC, I didn't have the heart to put my summer bar friends in an awkward position (the bartender, the patrons, the owner/manager)  I couldn't be drinking in public anymore.. If I was going to drink that evening, I had to go somewhere where they didn't know me

And I did.  I walked a good half a mile, landing at another Irish pub McKendrys in Amagansett.. A grim place with even grimmer characters..A perfect spot for me and the state I was in.

Sitting at the bar with a bottled beer in front of me, One leads to two, two to three, within minutes, I reach my cruising altitude, that gnawing voice inside of me finally quieted, at least for a moment.

I eventually go to the jukebox. I find Europe 72 from the Grateful Dead. I put on the cut Prelude, 7 minutes of the most unsettling discordant music in recorded history. Right at the piece's peak, the bartender goes to the jukebox and unplugs it.

Bartender: "You put that shit on again, you're outta here.. Think about somebody other than yourself for once, would ya?"

Lectured and forlorn, I sat quietly with my beer, plotting my next move when a  fellow older deadhead shimmies up side of me.. 

Deadhead: "For what its worth, I was at that show they played that."

Me: No way!!

Deadhead: "Yeah, just imagine that on acid"

Me: Enthusiastically "I do all the time!!"

 

Intros get made. Rounds get bought. 

VOICEOVER: And the funny thing about my drug use. Sober, the thought of doing cocaine would make my skin crawl...But put a few drinks in me and drugs are literally the only thing I can think about

Me to my new deadhead friend: You wouldn't happen to know where we could score, would you?

Deadhead: Well, Yes I do.. But he only sells 8 balls

Me: Ahh, My favorite pool game

Deadhead: Mine too.. Lets settle up and go

Driving to score.. Get back to his place. People strewn around.. crack pipes, needles.. I settle in.. Get my stash, its fantastic, I'm generous, I line everybody up but say I can't stay all night.. I keep saying I have to be at work at 8.. But Joints, opium.. Hippy chicks, Dark Star (grateful Dead) playing in the background.. 

The clock continues to advance.. 12, 1, 2.. I'm getting hammered again.. GF sees I'm missing.. shes stressing.. on the phone to her friends..

GF:  I can't do this again. I'm pregnant, he's completely out of control..

The suns rising, peeking through the blinds. Paper hits the door, birds start chirping.. Everyone starts passing out.. I gather my stuff, steal a bunch of bottles of pills from the medicine cabinet.. Xanax, Vicodin, Valiums.. What a score!!  Have my racket bag and stash, jam a couple beers into it and head out to the road to try and hitch a ride when a cab comes by..

Cab driver: Where to?

Me: Uh, Take me to... pause.. train station.

Cab Driver: You sure?

Me: No.. But lets start there..

Drive in silence... Reach platform, pay cabbie, get to train ticket kiosk.. Look at options.. Buy a ticket Check my stuff... Climb up.. Once again, East goes back to my home, my life, or what's left of it..Westbound train takes me to the great unknown, an unknown I likely won't return from.

Drama.. Trains come, I let them pass. I have time. I sit and ponder my choices, my life.. East comes again, I don't get on... West to NYC comes by.. And I get on..

Same window, same horizon as before..A little tear forms at my eye. I'm in big trouble.. I'm seriously contemplating ending my life because I can't stop doing drugs..From utterly powerless to utterly hopeless.. Not sure how  I'm going to do whatever I'm going to do, I grab paper from my bag and start writing a scathing good bye letter aimed at my addiction and my Dad (will narrate this.. Obviously sad and heavy but explaining my angst at my parents, addiction etc) 

Hours later...Trains, Buses.. before long I'm right back in AC at the same hotel, this time armed and dangerous with strong drugs and pills 

Immediately call the same prostitute.  She says she'll be over in a bit.. I settle in, take a few pills to calm down a little, but I'm incredibly stoned

She arrives.. Sees whats going on.. Tries to console me.. "Jesus dude, why are you doing this? I thought you were going to become a parent."

Me:  I don't know.. I wish I could explain myself better.. 

Prostitute: Do you want me to call someone?

 

Me: No, please don't..Nobody knows I'm here.. I'll figure it out, or I won't.. I don't know..

Prostitute: You look sad? You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?  I don't feel like I should leave you alone, but I can't stay here long..

Me: You go ahead. Let me get some rest, and I'll check in with you tomorrow.. I just need to settle down a little

Prostitute: "Ok.. Be careful.. I may check in on you later".. She walks up to me, kisses me on the head and pats my chest.."Take care of your heart now, you're gonna need it" (She's very nurturing)

She walks out the door, looking back at me, pausing slightly, staring in, unsure of what's she's seeing or what she should do..She shuts door, pauses again.. Looks down over the railing to see her girlfriend's car waiting to pick her up. She walks down stairs, getting in the passenger seat. She gets in car and unfolds two hundred bucks

GF:. That's it??? That's all you got? I thought you said this guy was flush..

Prostitute: He was, He is. He's got all kinds of good shit in there but I have a bad feeling about this guy

GF: And why are we having feelings for dates?

Prostitute: Not like that.. He doesn't look right. He's totally out of it.  I feel like we should call someone. 

GF: WTF girl!! We Social Services now? You losing your edge girl.. We should go back up there, promise him a threesome and take him for everything he has... Plus, what are going to tell anybody?  You don't know anything about the guy other than he's so high all he can do is cuddle...Plus your fingerprints are all over that room now. Something go wrong with him, with your history, I don't think you want that

Prostitute: I know.. I know..Just none of it feels right..

GF: I hear ya.. But Let's not make his problems our problems. Check in on him tomorrow. He'll probably still be rolling (they slowly pull out of the parking lot, with the prostitute looking up at his window..) 

Flash to my room and I'm barely dressed, sweating and tweaking and staring out the peephole

I walk over to my bag and gets back on writing  goodbye letter. Angrier now, emotional.. crying and yelling.. Lashing out at my Dad. Its getting uglier and messier, penmanship getting illegible

VOICE OVER: And you really do think about your life.. Unfortunately through the prism of extreme despair and addiction and its hardly measured or balanced against reality.. Just raw unprocessed pain getting increasingly more painful with every last ingestion of narcotics.  How did it get so far away.. Images of childhood, parents, tennis, trophies, important moments.. UCLA, JDC

Couple hours pass

Images of my room, my gf, work, my parents.. the hooker who just left me sitting quietly in her room with the phone right beside her

I start lining up what I have left.. Drugs, pills, booze.. I'm getting delirious.. Try to write a note, but its a scribbled mess...

Time is running out

I barricade the door..Lock it..Start taking everything.. I'm a slobbering sweaty mess.. Everything at once.. I'm going out

Hooker staring at the phone, jumps up and calls 911.. Tells them there's an overdose in a hotel .refuses to give any info.. Gets upset when they hesitate and keep asking questions..Yelling at them to hurry

I go out.. Lying there passed out.. Its finally quiet, then the Paramedics with the help of the hotel manager start banging on the door.. Its locked from the inside.. They smash their way in.. I'm out cold

Gurney.. Rushing me out to ambulance.. EMT finding paraphernalia and pill bottles and scribbled notes.. Its a suicide attempt

Call it in.. They rush me into ICU.. I'm given Narcan..I'm coming in and out of consciousness.. Charcoal to induce vomiting. Raging, crying, vomiting.. 

As I come to briefly, they ask if there's anyone we can call

I manage to give them my parents number

They call my parents.. Dad gets on the phone.. Things get explained..Everyone panicking now.. Parents ask to speak to me

He's in a bad way, but we can try

Holding the phone for me, My Dad gets on the ..

Dad: Barry Barry.. hang in there man

Me: Dad.. I'm sorry, I'm sorry   crying and yelling and heaving

Dad: Anxious and panicky..."We're sorry, We had no idea.. We had no idea.. But hang in there.. We're going to get you the help you need. You hear us. We're gonna get you the help you need.. But you gotta hang in there

I fade off crying and wailing ..

Hours later.. I awaken in rough shape.. I'm in a dark basement room within a sea of gurneys  and patients and groans.. 

Crazy patients everywhere, screaming and groaning Get me out of here and Help Me!! More groans, more wailing.. A nurse is circulating among the gurneys doing the rounds..

She approaches an older African American man strapped to a gurney next to mine, blood drips slowly down the side of his face.. He's hemorrhaging from his eyes..Subdued Groaning.. Nurse comes up to him.. Dabs his face, cleans him up.. Is there anyone we can call for you?

No.. They no one. Ain't been no one for a while

VOICE OVER: And in one of the saddest sites I'd ever seen here was an older gentleman in a terrible way with not a single sole still in his life.. And it hit me hard, for that would be me if I keep doing what I'm doing, There won't be anyone to take my calls soon.. 

Nurse approaches me.. 

Nurse: Are you comfortable and do you need anything?

Me: I haven't eaten in a while...Is there any food?

Nurse: Not for a while. We do rounds again in a couple hours.. 

Me: Ok, is there a rest room I could use?

Nurse: Down the hall to the left

With the nurse's help, I slowly climb down off my gurney in my stained hospital smock. I slowly start walking down the hall and feel something in my foot. I bend over, pulling a few crumpled dollar bills from my sock.. I look at them, straighten them, then  see some vending machines at the end of a hall.. I try the door,  its locked

I try the next door, Its locked too.. I'm in a lock down psych ward.. I keep walking.. Find a bathroom.. See myself in the mirror.. I look terrible, grim.. I have nothing to say to myself

I walk out.. I try another door with heavy locks.. But it opens.. I see a pathway to the street.. I take it.. I look around... I start walking slowly down.. I don't think I'm supposed to be here

I reach another glass door.. It opens to the street.. Its night time.. Its sweltering hot.. I walk out to the street.. I'm in my hospital smock.. I have a couple dollars in my hand.. I see the bright lights of a lit up city street.. 

I see a row of bars and liquor stores.. I see the money in my hand.. I look at the money, then the bar.. My mouth is so dry and disgusting.. I would kill for a drink a right now... 

Then a voice in my head..Its my voice.. "No Man You've had enough. Go back inside. You've had enough"

As I stood there still, I look to my money, to the bars, back to the doorway and the hospital, only to see two nurses running down the hall toward me..

Nurse:  Sir, Sir, you can't be out here.. Come this way now..

Me: I was just looking for something to eat

Nurse: We'll get you something to eat.. Just come back inside.. Your ride is coming for you, but its going to be a bit.. So just come back inside. You're not supposed to be out here

One nurse grabbed one arm, the second nurse grabbed the other as they escorted me back to the hospital and my gurney

VOICEOVER: 

And with that, it was over.. I was being flown home.. Though the chain of command would get complicated, with my pregnant gf  just as afraid of me as she was for me. But behind the scenes, calls were being made to get me out of the hospital and on a plane home to California where I'd be heading off to inpatient treatment for alcoholism. I'd dodged a bullet in Atlantic City. A couple of them really.. But I was heading home to finally get the help I so badly needed..

 

Heading to treatment at Sierra Tucson.

Multiple Scenes

September 1992, Just after my 28th birthday, I'm rushed home from Atlantic City after overdosing and spending the evening in the lock-down NPI wing of the hospital. Its my second rescue from AC in two weeks. My alcoholism/addiction, always life destroying had crossed the line to life threatening.

The chain of command getting me home was complicated. My pregnant girlfriend was equally afraid of me as for me, but I managed to make it home, ending back at my parents house in California at the same kitchen table I grew up at 

(( The Atlantic City scenes are intense... More about them later ))

Back at my parents house at the same kitchen table in the same seat across from my Mom and Dad. My packed luggage sits awkwardly in the middle of the living room as I await my best friend Nick to take me to the airport. After 14 years of hard using, my luck had finally run out. I was being shipped off to inpatient treatment for 30 days to Sierra Tucson.

Its tense at the table. Nobody can talk about it, my alcoholism, my addiction, their drinking and the events that led up to my bottoming out in AC. I'm being quiet, looking at the clock for my friend to arrive, who's late. Small talk between parents. Awkward silence. We haven't been communicating much last few years, now sitting at the table again with my near death experience/rescue hanging between us. Eye contact gets made. Eyes shift away. TV blaring in the background. Getting more tense by the moment when the doorbell finally rings.

We all pop right up and rush to the door. My friend Nick enters. My parents approach him, thanking him for his help in connecting them with Nick's mother who aided in getting me a bed at Sierra Tucson. My Dad comes up to Nick. He pats Nick on the back, telling him he's a good friend. Nick nods respectfully as he grabs my luggage, walking back out to his car, leaving me alone with my folks. I look at my folks.. 

Me: I gotta get going. Mom gives me a stiff hug. Dad walks me to the door. I pause. He pats me on the shoulder. Good luck, he says...

Me: I'm sorry you guys (as I near tearing up)  

Dad: Its ok, Its ok..Just get better Barry..

Get to Nick's car, a sports coupe we did a lot of partying in. Start driving through town to the airport. We're quiet in the car. Nobody knows what to say. I mean, what do you say to your out of control friend on a deathwish? Passing bars and liquor stores seeming every block. The neon signs, the billboards, the corner bars

Me: " Temptation on every corner...You ever notice how much alcohol is everywhere? I mean, its literally everywhere. Every store we pass, every sign we see.  How does anyone stay sober in this world. 

We go quiet for a moment. Then an ad comes on the radio for Heineken. We look over toward each other shaking our heads. Nick: "Got your work cut out for you! 

Me: No shit!! As I shut off the radio

We keep driving. We pass billboards for beer and booze. Its relentless. Arrive at the airport. Quick good-bye with friend

Nick: C'mon man. You gotta fix this. Can't be living like this. Get better, would ya?

Walking through airport. Check my bag, find my gate. Waiting for flight. The bar is jumping. Its 3 deep at the bar with everyone drinking and laughing animatedly. I find a little high top off to the side away from the action to lean against. From across the bar, I hear my name called. Its friends heading to Vegas. They ask where I'm going? I tell them Tucson. They ask what I'm doing there? I stutter.. say a tennis thing. I ask about Vegas. They say they're going to tear it up and that I should come. Yeah, that would be about the worst idea ever. That's not the Barry Buss I know. You own Vegas. Remember the Grateful Dead shows? Ridiculous weekends

Me: Yeah, we're giving that guy a little time out. Trying a little health kick for a bit. Trying to get back in playing shape. ((having to lie about what I'm doing))  But you guys have fun for me. 

Back at my high top. Cute waitress walks up. 

Waitress: All by yourself? Can I get you something to keep you company? 

Me: I could use a lot of things right now. Just a Diet Coke for now. 

Waitress: Traveling alone tooooo??? Let me guess. Meeting friends in Tahoe? 

Me: Yeah, that would be nice. Just going to Tucson..to ummm, see some friends. 

Waitress: She picks up my ticket. Looks at the dates. You're staying a whole month??? Wow, Must be a good friend..

Me: Uh, yeah. Helping him.. uhhh, move out and move in. You know, bad break up. All that stuff (I'm able to lie with complete ease)  

My flight gets called. 

Me: Uhh, that's my flight. I gotta run. I'll be back in a month. I'll come by and say hi.

Waitress: Please do, as she smiles and walks away

Voice Over: Hitting on Bartenders in bars. How's that going to work out? And as I headed toward my gate, I waved to my party friends and my new waitress friend, knowing that my time in such places was coming to an end. 

And for the first time in my life, I felt out of place in that party world, the only world I knew.

Board flight. Get seated. Pull out a book. On The Road by Jack Kerouac. I'm ill at ease. Fidgeting ..Going from book, to magazine, to pamphlets.. just staring out the window. Can't focus. Turning my head away from my world..

Stewardess walks by. Would you like a drink to the person next to me? Gets to me. Would you like a drink? I'm being tested. I live in a world consumed with alcohol. Nobody would know. One last one. Then the voice appears again. No, You've had enough.

Staring out the window, I close my eyes, drifting off. Perfect time for a flashback with some music or a Voiceovers about first beers, beer bottle collection, dad and Mom always drinking, first drug experiences, how it started so innocently.. Just wanted to be like Dad, just wanted to fit in, just wanted to be liked, to feel different, just having fun, just experimenting a little, just curious a lot.. Show the progression.. Early fun, fun and problems, tying off my arm startles me awake.. As I awaken, Flight attendant is telling us to fasten seat belts as we begin our descent. 

"Thank God this is a short flight." 

At Tucson Airport..

Deplaning. Walking through another airport. More bars and drinking all around. Reach Baggage claim. Find my bags. Look across the room and see a sign with my name on it.

Approach heavy set gentleman with white sign with my name on it. That's me. He greets me. Tells me his name. Shakes my hand and grabs one of my bags. 

"Welcome to Tucson..Follow me." We walk out the sliding doors. Its Tucson in September, scalding hot. We reach a non-descript white van with no writing on it. "This is the Center's van.

How can anyone tell?

You can't. That's the whole idea. Its the anonymous part.

Oh I get it..

I Climb in the back of the van. Driver sits up front. I'm in the back middle seat. We start up and begin the drive to the Center..

How far is it?

Close to an hour, so settle on in.

Driver: Its an amazing place, Sierra Tucson. I owe my life to them. Yup. Five years and 4 months ago I sat right where you sit. Scared, lost, completely out of answers. I came here with no hope. I walked out 30 days later a sober member of Alcoholics Anonymous and I haven't had as much as a sip of alcohol since. The Center not just saved my life, but gave me a reason to live. So much so, I stayed on to work, eventually landing this job, driving you all to and fro. Best job I've ever had.

Seriously? (shaking my head. Under my breath, what, burger flipping wasn't available?)

Dead seriously. I get to watch the most amazing human transformations take place darn near every day. I pick people up in all states of broken, I get them handed to me by their sobbing parents, I see them trying to finish their stash before getting to the Center, I see them plotting their escape, trying to make a run for it before being admitted. A constant flow of scared broken people finally having to face their demons, and then a month later I take em back to the airport, all of em standing tall with eyes clear and happiness all across their faces, their kids back in their lives, their parents beaming with pride, everybody healthy and full of hope, all because of the power of the Center. Not all of them, of course. Some just aren't ready. As the Big Book says. Some are sicker than others. But all in all, I wouldn't trade where I sit right now for anything in the whole wide world.

((As the driver delivers his soliloquy, I'm growing increasingly uncomfortable in the back. Fidgeting around, I'm looking for a way out, to run like others had made a run before me.  I'm in a terrible place. Not feeling the fire and brimstone of the driver...

"Hey, Can we pull over somewhere. I need something to eat.

Sure. Driver whips the van into a mini-mart. Right before the van stops, I lurch for the van door to make a run for it. But its locked. Fuck!!

Laughing, the Driver jumps in. Oh not so fast there, its locked from the inside so people can't get away. And don't feel bad. You're far from the only one not excited about being here.

Voice Over: (defeated) And with that final feeble gesture of defiance, my days of running from my problems were over. It was time to face the state of my life. I was going to rehab to learn how to live without alcohol.

Back in the van, the driver continues on. "You'll see right away, Everyone at the Center went through the program. Its mandatory if you want to work there. So you'll be surrounded by people who feel exactly like you feel right now, but when you look in their eyes, you'll see the hope, you'll see the spirit, you'll see the change. For that's what the Center is all about, teaching you the tools to live your life free from alcohol and drugs. Its about Changing our lives. Turning over our will to a power greater than ourselves. ts amazing how the program works its magic, its also amazing how many people stay on and never leave. I might have the least seniority there and I have 5 years. But recovery is a way of life for us. Its the only way. The people that stay working at the Center stay sober and get all the promises of the program. Those who take back their will struggle. Some make it back but barely. But most don't.

He continues to drone on but I'm barely listening. He then turns his head back and looks at me. 

"Listen to me. You don't know me from Adam. But I've driven hundreds and hundreds of patients just like you to and fro. You are lucky. You have a chance. Most alcoholics never get a chance to go to treatment, especially one this nice with its reputation. So listen to me carefully.Take this seriously. This may be the only chance you get at sobriety, so do what you're told here. It works if you work it, but you have to apply yourself. You too can be a part of the miracle of sobriety.

Pulling into the Center, a long uphill circular driveway appears. The Driver approaches a large wooden sign and slows down. 

"Look out your window"

Looking out my window, I see a giant wood sign.  "Expect A Miracle"

A Miracle??? What does that mean.

It means you too can become a miracle. You can do this. I've seen so many people just like you scared and out of hope. But I'm gonna be praying for you from this moment on. And I'm going to drive you back to the airport a month from now and you're going to be an entirely different person. OK?

Jesus man. Is all this necessary? All this talk about miracles and praying for me? I just want to not lose my shit when I drink.

Driver: Just be willing and do as your directed. And I'll see you in a month.

The driver pulls up to the front of the building where two nurses await me.

Driver: Now Good Luck!!

Next Scene Will be my intake.. Let me know if you want me to keep going. The whole stay there would likely be 5-6 more sections of this length..