On the 27th of February, 1983 I had come to the end of my alcoholic rope. I had earlier in the day very carefully accessed the amount of beer remaining stashed around the house and in the car. I was determined to find enough alcohol to taper myself off without hurting too much, yet not drinking so such that I couldn’t go to work the next day. Sundays are hard on drunks. Especially those like myself who
was always underestimating the amount of beer I would end of drinking on Saturday nights. That is why I had taken to hiding a can or two of beer here and there. I was hiding them from myself, certainly in the condition I was in there was no one around in my life to be hiding them from. As I stepped from the house, into the sunlight, something was different. The world had somehow changed. An energy was present that I could not help but notice. For an instance I knew the gig was up, that I couldn’t go on like this much longer. However, the draw of the alcoholic addiction was too great to let me long study this phenomena. The beer was hot and I was in agony, I needed relief. Crisis hit early on in the day, as I went to the store to get some ice to cool my remaining supply of beer. I was extremely hung over and didn’t take the time to completely break up the ice and when I tossed it in on the beer a chunk broke 4 of my remaining 13 beers.
Panic took over. I now no longer had enough to make it through the day. But where to get more? On Sunday? Missouri isn’t that far from where I live. Only 75 miles, so Kansas City here I come. By the time I was 2 miles down the road I knew I wasn’t being none too smart. I was pretty shaky, hung over and a little tanked yet from the night before. The night before. More like the six months before. I had just gotten back to work in the previous 2 or 3 weeks. That had been mainly working 8 or 10 hours a day, drinking 8 or 10 and sleeping or something the rest of the time. Prior to that couple of weeks I had been drinking round the clock for the 5 months since my birthday in September. By the time I was 2 and one-tenth miles down the road I had numbers of good reasons why I needed to go to the city, and while I was there I guess it would be alright if I picked up a six-pack or maybe 2. I remember hearing myself lie to the person selling me the 3 six packs of beer. "I didn’t know you could sell beer in Missouri on Sunday. I might as well pick up some to take with me, back to Kansas." I thought to myself, "Why am I
lying to him? He doesn’t care." I couldn’t keep the reality from coming to the forefront of my consciousness. I hadn’t just happened onto this place. I had stopped and asked at 3 different gas stations, "Where could I find beer on Sunday?" I knew something was wrong. I knew I had to stop. "How?" I thought. I had been able to quit drinking before, but what had happened to make me able to do that? I realized that the only way I had ever been able to quit drinking for any appreciable time before was to get thrown in jail, So, I had a plan. I’d get thrown in jail. Then I could sober up, who could blame me if I quit because I got thrown in jail. I started drinking around downtown Kansas City. When I came to an intersection I would stop when the light was green and wait until it turned red, then drive through it. I did this over and over, for maybe as long as an hour. But time was getting a little distorted by this point. Failing to get arrested I finally gave up and went to the mall to take care of that important business that my mind had rationalized was my reason for coming up to Kansas City. After walking around the mall for a while and not being able to remember the reason for my trip I returned to my car. I sat and watched he people. Popped another can of beer and took a Dristan and Contac. I had a constant case of the sniffles then and the antihistamines seemed to help me along the path to oblivion. Suddenly finding myself back on the Interstate heading south and not realizing really how I had accomplished that. I knew I was too far-gone. Head for home. Drink the rest of the beer. Call in sick in the morning. Soon I was starting to lose my consciousness. I knew from the hundreds of times before that I was headed for a blackout. Being still 60 miles from home and fading fast. I picked up the speed a little. Hopefully I would be able to get home before I was gone.
I got in behind a car that was traveling along at a pretty good clip. That’s it. Just follow this guy. Keep myself focused on his rear-end and I’ll be alright. My attention was drawn away for just a second. I knew there was a rest stop up ahead and I thought it would be a good idea to stop, have a couple of beers and let the cold pills wear off. When my attention returned to driving I was just about to drive up into the truck of the car in front of me. He had slowed down abruptly for a highway patrol speed trap a half mile up the road. Slamming on the brakes, my car was pulled into the soft wet turf of the highway median.
From the middle of the interstate I could see the police with their radar checking speed. Between them and myself was a small creek. Realizing that I was still traveling at 70 miles per hour, the thought crossed my mind that I had a chance here, to end it all. Death was for the best I thought. I was disgusted at the worthless wretch I had become. A short flight through space and the concrete retaining wall on the far side and eternal oblivion. Accelerator pedal to the floor I approached my destiny. Though I pressed harder on the gas, things began to slow down. The acceptance of my pitiful state was followed
immediately by a flood of memories. Memories from a much better time in life, when I not only didn’t feel worthless about myself, but actually liked myself. Still at break-neck speed, yet in seeming slow motion a memory of when I was in the Army came to me. We had sponsored children from a nearby orphanage to have Thanksgiving Dinner with us on post. I remembered how I had made sure the young boy I was sponsoring had gotten plenty of food and how hard I tried to communicate with him during the meal. I remember the glow of happiness as I stuffed the boy’s pockets and filled his hands with fruits, nuts and treats before he had left. I remembered the feeling, deep inside that I had on that day. I wasn’t worthless. I knew that good person was still inside of me, somewhere. I became determined to save him. To save myself.
With the creek but a few hundred feet ahead I cranked the steering wheel all the way to the left to avoid flying into the cement wall. The hard turn caused the front end of the car to dig into the soft earth. The car began to flip over, end to end. I remember being able to see the scene from a dual perspective. I recall the chaos of seeing first the muddy earth in front of the car. Then out the windshield the sky and setting sun. The earth again, then again sky. They gray of the pavement on the opposite side of the interstate, followed by sky. I also have the memory of seeing the scene from above it all. Watching the car flip over and over. Seven or eight times it flipped. The cars in the on-coming lanes of traffic, braking, skidding and turning to the right and left. I marveled that the car I was in somehow landed right in between 3 cars, bouncing over the trunk of the far one. Back inside the car, in an effort to save myself, I flung my body sideways across the bench seat. With that act I lost consciousness. My next awareness was of being in darkness. Lying across the bench seat. The void was punctuated by the crackling sound of police radio and ambulance coming to stop at the accident scene. I heard the officer tell the paramedics that there was no hurry, that there couldn’t possibly be anyone alive in the car. I was angry. I was terrified. I was alive in here and I was mad that they didn’t know it. I was afraid also, that they wouldn’t get me out in time. I remember shouting, but the only thing that worked was my thoughts, no voice, and no breath. Screaming in my mind "Wait a minute! I’m alive in here!" I found the process of time reversing itself. I found myself back at the point during the accident where I had flung myself across the seat to save myself. Yet it was different. As my body lay across the seat, I found myself as a tiny spirit creature of sorts sitting on the dash of the car, looking at me. The car interior was illuminated in the most brilliant of white lights, so much so that the deep burgundy interior appeared as a pale gold. The c car’s motion was stopped and the vehicle was suspended in mid-rotation. With the light came voice. A voice at the same time so silent and soft that I knew it must have come from deep within myself and also thunderously loud. So loud I was sure everyone within miles must surely have heard it. With the fullest measure of Love and a lack of judgment the voice said simply "YOU CAN QUIT DRINKING OR YOU CAN DIE."