It seems like years ago, in fact it was. The series
of posts that I started writing just over a year ago on my trip to Fort
Meyers for spring training keep popping up on my timeline on Facebook, and
memories keep coming back.
Parenthetically, two of my friends are there right now,
enjoying their time in sobriety, sun, and now in engagement, as he proposed to
his girlfriend (with whom I am also friends) on a walk on the beach. Mason and
I are part of a trio that still keeps in touch after our time in prison, and spell
through the boot camp program. We are all Twins fans, and are all meeting up in
less than a month to attend the home opener, and all with our girlfriends. Looking
back on this paragraph, I should clarify that Mason’s fiancée was never in
prison, I am referring to Mason, Eric, and Vince (me), as the trio. Mason and
his girlfriend are in Florida.
This will be the second successive year that we will attend
the first game of the year at Target Field, but the first at which we will be
accompanied by our gals. I hope we can make a tradition out of this.
If you do take the time to peruse the series of posts I share
in the link above, you will see a dissimilar Vince. I look cheerful, and I am
smiling or making a goofy face in every picture, and maybe I actually was happy
during that trip, but I remember the trip back was one of remorse because I
knew I was heading right back into the lifestyle in which I had entrenched
myself which included four ten-hour days of work, followed by two days of heavy
drinking (I almost always allowed myself a day of recovery, not because I
couldn’t take it, but because I drank in such excess that my body wouldn’t
properly function without it. Those days were spent in cold shivers on the
floor of my apartment in front of the television, drifting in and out of slumber).
My work-days were not reserved for sobriety, to be clear. Often I would need to
be high just to face the daunting tasks ahead of me, managing a kitchen by
myself, with ill treatment from an ungrateful boss, and I would start drinking
the minute I clocked out. Maybe it was all reciprocal. Maybe she treated me poorly
in exchange for allowing me to show up in any condition, or maybe she was just
greedy which I think was the case. Here is an
entire post I wrote on the subject, so I can digress now and move on with
my thoughts.
The last night we spent in Fort Meyers was used as a fitful
night with no sleep in the lobby of the airport. We made the assumption that
airports are open all night, which I believe in some cases they are. In this
case, we were wrong, and we had to try to get in bits of rest on unforgiving
plastic chairs with obstructing metal arm-rests. At one point I tried to lodge
my larger-than-now torso through a length of armrests on top of the chairs. The
result was disastrous and comical. Another thing we didn’t realize was that
there was no liquor available to help put us to sleep, so we stayed awake all
night, and stayed grumpy for the day.
When we arrived back home, nothing had changed. I was tired,
broke, and all I could think about was getting high and drunk. As it turns out,
no matter where I go, my disease follows me. I had a memorable experience and
the vacation of a lifetime, but I wasted all of my money at a bar which is what
I would have done at home anyhow. Many of my nights were recalled for me by
Seth, as I was in a near constant blackout state towards the end of the days. I
went back to my normal routine, and that lasted for many more years.
