I've mentioned this before, just not in great detail. Booze turned me in to a first rate prick. Having a short fuse to begin with, booze was just lighter fluid on the fire. I haven't had a drink in 20 years or there about. Every now and again I long for a couple of fingers of Makers Mark, a cold beer to chase it with, sitting in a haze of smoke in some dark seedy bar, watching it unfold around me. Those days are long gone as are the days of seedy smoke filled bars. When I was 20, too young to drink legally, not that being legal ever stopped me, I was stabbed by a pissed off husband in the entryway of the Club 95. He got me in the chest, the neck and the gut. I had been running around with the guys wife for months. Hey, I was a criminal, if stealing didn't bother me, adultery didn't even merit hesitation. I keep telling you rubes that "good guy crooks" are a Hollywood myth. Bullshit fabricated by men and women who lack the balls to see themselves in the mirror as they truly are. Robin Hood is a fairy tale.Honor among thieves is a fabrication. Anyway, it all came to a head the night he hemmed me up in that little entryway. I was drunk, his wife was evil, and the dude was nuttier than a Pepperidge Farms fruitcake. I'd been sitting at the bar, his 35 year old wife kept the liquor flowing, as he sat in a dark corner booth watching it all unfold. She knew what she was doing, no doubt in my mind. I was young, invincible, and naive when it came to just how twisted and fucked up people can be.
They were separated, she had him put out of his own house , wouldn't let him see his kids very often, made sure she kept her hand elbow deep in his pocket. I was an idiot who didn't have a clue. When I got up to leave, her hanging off my neck and rubbing against me like a cat, I didn't notice that he made an exit for the door ahead of me. I stepped out the first set of doors and there he stood. He was a big guy, but he wasn't intimidating, at least in my boozed up eyes. We stood there for a few seconds. He was rambling on about his house and his kids. Big guy, crying. I said something smart, don't recall exactly what, and as I brushed by him, he hit me in the chest. Except he didn't hit me. He stabbed me, in the upper left side of my chest just beneath the collarbone. Then he cut my neck, then he got me in the gut. She screamed, I was still trying to figure out what had happened. He turned around and left. He drove his car into a bridge pillar on 71 highway about 20 minutes later.
I went to the emergency room, got out the same night, had a drink and nailed his wife, in his house, just out of spite. I was a real piece of work back then. He was in the hospital for 3 weeks. The day he got out, he walked in his old home, walked past his wife and kids without uttering a word. Of course he knew she would follow him, probably yelling at him to get the fuck out of there. She did just as he knew she would. He stepped in to the bathroom, stood in the shower, and just as she stepped through the door, he stuck the pistol he had on him in his own mouth, and blew his brains out.
She came by my place that same night. The. Same. Night. Told me all about it. Just as calm as if she was telling me about some mundane daily occurrence. At one point she reaches into her purse, pulls out one of those blue Crown Royal bags. She dumped the contents out on my kitchen table. A gold bracelet, a wedding band, a diamond pinky ring and a mans wallet spilled out on the table. " Can you sell this jewelry for me"? I gave her a look. I scooped the shit up, put it in the bag, put it back in her purse, and threw her out of my house. Physically. I got blinding drunk that night. I never saw her again. Don't get shit twisted, I wasn't suddenly overcome with guilt and shame for having an indirect hand in the guys death. I wasn't capable of that type of remorse back in those days. The regrets wouldn't come for another 20 years or so. I put her out because she spooked me. She was ruthless.She was far colder than I was ever capable of being, and that's saying something.
I continued to drink through my 20's. I continued to do stupid shit when I was hammered. I finally gave it up when I was in my early 30's. I was never a stereotypical alcoholic, but I know now as I knew when I finally gave it up, booze clouded my judgment, changed my personality, and it never chased away whatever personal demons and problems I battled. In the end it started to affect my hustle, and I wasn't having any of that shit. I went to a single AA meeting and never went back. I didn't need it, and I didn't need to listen to a bunch of ex drunks talk about booze. I just quit.
I like to think that I wouldn't have helped torment that poor sap had I not been drinking. I know for a fact I wouldn't have let myself get caught in that entryway had I been sober. I knew it then and I know it now. Booze didn't ruin my life, but it probably contributed to ruining the lives of those two kids that were caught between a weak minded father and an evil mother. When I was 20, in that moment, I never gave any thought to those two kids, never cared if I was helping drive their father crazy. I did plenty of stupid shit in those drinking years. Here's the rub, I knew every time before I took a drink that things could turn out bad. Still I drank.
Tomorrow we'll take a look at the Ted Williams farce.
Alcohol killed my dad, my brother, and almost killed my other brother. It caused my mom to be involved in two very screwed up marriages.
ReplyDeleteI really have to keep my drinking in check.
Robert Heinlein once wrote something along the lines of "Strong drink will make you tell people your real name." That's never a good idea. I quit about 20 years ago myself. Luckily for me I've found that I can have one (and only one) drink now and then and it makes me feel good. Any more than one and I feel sick. I'm happy my tolerance has gone down so far.
ReplyDeleteWow. Well, this was one of those times you wrote pretty darn well. Obviously, that was one of those "life changing experiences." At least you gave up booze and lived to tell about it.
ReplyDeleteI grew up with a violently abusive alcoholic father who loved us with all the heart he was capable of when he was sober. We always forgave him, even after he had threatened us and himself in a drunken rage. Somehow we knew that it was all due to the alcohol and that deep inside he was a good man. I don't remember most of my childhood. I know that's why. Fortunately, one day he quit drinking (just like you .. on the spot) after I was raised and out of the house. Life changed for him, my mom and the whole family after. It was wonderful. I've always suspected that something really dramatic triggered him to quit drinking so suddenly and permanently, but if they knew, they didn't tell me about it, even when I asked.
Good post MM, but you are right about it not being of the better ones. I like the redemption kind of stories you tell. I don't know if this post was about booze, cause I take away that it was more about the wife. That woman used you, so maybe that's a life lesson for others as well?
ReplyDeleteI look forward to your piece on Ted.
If you get a chance and feel like giving writer type advice, I started writing some Zombie stories on my blog. Not looking for kudos but if you have some constructive ideas, I'd be open.
The Talmud says strong drink shows the real man. I am glad you aren't the same man you were when you were 20. I am confused about something, though. Do you feel guilt now for his suicide?
ReplyDeleteIf you do, I would tell you to let it go. You aren't that powerful. Also, I doubt you contributed anything to that mans torment or eventual suicide. He had his own baggage. You were just the punk doing his wife.
Mark, I know a thing or two about guilt over some heartless stuff. I've also learned that I am not G-d, so I don't have the power to make anyone do anything.
I haven't thought of Club 95 in years. Nearly every time I went there it ended badly. I'm not sad to see it gone.
ReplyDeletewhen is that book coming out?
ReplyDeleteI am reading your past post and have enjoyed your post I am mid way thro 2008 and stumbled on to the post about Mayor James Valley of Helena Arkansas who turned the dog loose from the city pound.
ReplyDeleteI am 72 year old and have lived in the state of Arkansas all my life and I can tell you that fellow was not born and raised in Arkansas he is a out lander moved to Arkansas, probably from California.
An Arkansas fellow would have took the dogs out and shot them then sneaked back to town and denied all knowledge as to what happen.
besides you are in MO. so you should know us better than to think we are that dumb!
Never the less I have enjoyed reading you writings especially the one about your grand mother and the lawn mower. I have a lawn mower I may start going to town on mine.
Great post.
ReplyDeleteI remember the Club 95.
Good read.
I was just thinking of my last visit to club 95. A friend of mines little brother hit a woman in the face. It didn't set all that well with me. He was on some kind of go-fast and I'd had plenty beers. Needless to say, it wasn't a fair contest. He had me in a choke hold and I remember hearing a cracking noise in my neck. I thought I was done.
ReplyDeleteI'd do it again today. Hopefully I'd be sober and able to make my point though.
I beg to differ with you, MM. I think it was a great read, since it was so personal. In it's own way, it really did end up redemptive by my way of thinking and for what it's worth.
ReplyDelete