A Sweaty Guy - Homeless in Hawaii

October 2004


7.

Perspiration is the bane of my existence. I am a sweaty guy. It's early, but I'm sweating like a pig. Yesterday I had sixty-one days sober (OK, I’d been drinking cough syrup for most of that time, but that doesn't get me into trouble like alcohol does). This morning I'm not feeling great, I’m still a bit drunk and I've lost my car.

Some homeless guy woke me up with his toe a few minutes ago. He told me I should get up before the police roust me. I don't remember passing out on the grass next to King Street, but the guy was right. It's a busy street; I'm lucky it wasn’t the cops that woke me up.

After getting myself oriented I begin walking. I’m nearly a mile from the last bar I remember being in last night. WHERE DID I LEAVE MY CAR? Miraculously, I still have over half a fifth of vodka in a plastic shopping bag, but I have no cash. I go to an ATM to check my balance and make a withdrawal. I'm sickened by the puny amount. The balance shows a few hundred, I should have well over a thousand. The ATM won't let me have any.

I vaguely remember leaving Club Rock Za last night after the ATM there stopped feeding me cash to feed the strippers. My shopping bag tells me I bought the vodka from Daiei, a Japanese store near the strip clubs. I take a swig from the bottle and start on foot to find my car.

I’d thought I was doing so well, putting my life back together. I had stayed for a couple of months with Matt after hitting what I thought was my absolute bottom. I'd been going to meetings, spending my days playing with my new nephew, Frankie, and helping Matt repaint his house. I just got back to Oahu a couple of days ago and now I'm in a worse bind than I’d been in when I'd left in August.

*

My life had seemed so full of promise last spring. I'd given John my notice and I was looking forward to making some real money in private practice working for Mark. I was making arrangements for Shea's summer visit. Though I'd backed off, Jessica and I continued to see each other. I knew that Shea would get along great with Jessica and her daughters.

In May and June I had more time on my hands. I was winding things down at work. Jessica less interested in spending time with me, and I was less interested in going to 12 step meetings. I began to focus my energies in other directions; I went to strip clubs. This was not a new activity for me, but one that I usually did when I was drunk (or wanting to get drunk) and lonely.

One Wednesday after work I went to Club Femme Nu; I just ordered Diet Cokes and spent about an hour (and $40) looking at the girls. Then Thursday afternoon I did the same thing, but after one Diet Coke, switched to beer. I'd been nearly 4 months without a drink, and I wanted to prove to myself that I could drink like a gentleman, so I left after just two beers. But I stopped on the way home and picked up a six-pack.

I was still using DXM constantly and was drinking one or two eight-ounce bottles of cough syrup per day. It was fortunate that I stopped drinking at the bar after just two beers because the interaction of the two substances really had a multiplying effect. Eight beers in one night would normally have been a very slow night before when I was drinking.