Dumpster Diving in an Armani Suit!

The more time I spend in sobriety, the clearer my mind is becoming. My using days created huge blank spots that are starting to fill back in. I blacked out EVERY time I drank. That's the whole idea right? I have mentioned that I don't remember the early nineteen-nineties. I have little recollection of my first year and a half at Illinois State. I do remember being arrested twice and being placed on academic probation for all three semesters.

I also had a radio show on WZND, the campus radio station. In a bit of Irony the show was called "The Happy Hour." It opened with the Ramones, "Rock-n-Roll radio. I never did a show sober. Not one. After I split for Columbia Chicago, out of necessity, and a harsh warning from the judge in Bloomington, I graduated in 1992. I don't have a single photo from my days at Columbia. I do have the sheepskin. I guess that's all that really matters.

I loved that there were 2 bars next door to the college back then. I would drink or smoke between classes and made few friends. They didn't drink like me so I had no use for them. I was so desperate to get high that during renovation of the original Michigan Avenue campus, I would sneak up to the construction area and use. I would return to class out of my mind and only half conscious.

Not long after I graduated I got a job in the gaming industry. They had opened up the first casinos in Joliet. I conned and schmoozed my way into a position in group sales. My job was to go to bars and organize bus trips for gamers. I spent more time in the bar drinking than getting groups signed up.

The job was a suit and tie gig. I felt like a big shot. I was really gripped with fear and a hundred insecurities. The chemicals just dulled the self-loathing. As my production in the department faded I knew my days were numbered. As an alcoholic I always had another job, and woman, on back up if things didn't work out when they discovered I was an addict.

One of the memories that has returned was the first time I ate garbage. The casino sent me on a tourism road trip through Michigan and Ohio with a bus company that promoted tours. There were speakers from the other area casinos and attractions. During the days we would travel to a city hotel and do presentations on why groups should visit our area. I was always able to pull off a funny presentation with a massive hangover. Every moment that I was on the job I was either recovering from, obsessing about or using alcohol. It consumed me until I consumed it.

After we would wrap up our presentations the group would meet for dinner. I was on a tight budget. Purchasing alcohol was my priority. Food was optional. As dinner hour came I would have a few drinks with the group and dismiss myself stating that I wasn't very hungry. I was. It was for alcohol. I would high tail it to the nearest liquor store and slink back to my room.

As I made my way back to my room loaded with liquid courage I noticed all the room service trays that had been placed in the hallway. The thought dawned on me that this is where I could find food! Booze first! I only wanted a small amount of eats as not to kill the buzz. My disease created enough denial in me that the thought of eating someones leftover garbage was easily overcome. I thought I was a survivor.

I would move with stealth, from floor to floor carefully lifting the aluminum food covers from the delivered plates. I didn't want to be caught with the occupants left overs in my hand! I carried napkins or the tiny garbage can liners to carry my bounty. Rolls, a piece of uneaten chicken and crackers were major scores. Taking a potato peel that had its' delicious center devoured was not below my station. I took them.

I was careful not to be seen. I was wearing a suit. When a passerby sauntered by I would merely smile and continue back to my room. Once there I would eat my leftovers and gnawed on bounty with smug pride, proud that I had saved my money for more booze. As the next day dawned I would slip back into a suit and feel invigorated that I had eaten garbage while they dined like respectable people.

This week I auditioned for 2 casino commercials. One looks pretty promising. I think those experiences are what triggered my flashbacks. I have been to casinos with Squeaky. I enjoy our time together there. Gambling addiction is one of the few I didn't fall into.

Looking back at my past is important. It helps me to remember where I was, and where I pray not to return  to. I learned a lot. It is just another chapter of the insanity that ruled my life for 28 years. It also helps jog my memory to anyone I may have wronged or harmed so I can seek them out and try to amend the situation. I learn from pain. It makes me stronger.

Today I am catching my dreams. It is only through the grace of GOD and those who helped me that I am sober today. I thanks the heavens for every day of living I am granted sober. Now I pass on my experiences to those who are fresh in recovery. That is how the circle works. I am grateful to share my story of pain to happiness to those newcomers. I see their pain and get further reinforcement that I don't wish to return to that misery.

I don't leave any regrets on the table now that I have been granted this new life. My motto is go for it. There are no such things as dreams, only unmet realities. I have to say goodbye because I have a recovery meeting now and there may be a newcomer who can relate to someone who has already fought the war. God Bless you all! Thanks for giving me a reason to live...sober. Every Day IS a Gift!

Ain't life Zany!

I'm just back from the left coast. Man I dig California. There is nothing I can think of that I don't like about the Golden State except the traffic during rush hour. As a Chicagoan even that was just an irritation, not a real frustration. While I was there I sought professional treatment for a phobia I have had for 30 years. I'm not ready to talk about it yet but I am grateful to say that the therapy worked.

When I woke up in my hotel room after my 17 hour odyssey from Chicago I was greeted by an email I have waited and prayed on for years. It was an invitation to perform at the "Rising Star Showcase" at Zanie's Comedy Club on Wells street in the heart of Chicago. That particular Zanie's is the original location and the jewel of the franchise. It is THE comedy club a comic shoots for coming up in the Chicago circuit. It is one of the elite comedy franchise names in the country.

I had been trying for several months to get a spot on the showcase but was coming up short with every email of rejection. Last Sunday, July 24, 2011 Bert Haas confirmed a slot for me in a simple to the point reply. Be at the club at 7:30 August 1, 2011. Clean Material. Bring a Press Kit. That was the gist of it. I was thousands of miles from Squeaky and had no one to share my elation with. That is with the exception of the big guy upstairs.

During the 4 on and off years I went to Columbia College I would walk up Wells Street and stop by the famous club where the greats had performed. I knew Carlin and Brenner, Williams and Martin had stood in the doorway and on the stage just behind the locked doors. I imagined myself doing jokes there. The roar of the crowd deafening. I would slay 'em.

The reality of my life was that I was high or drunk and was on my way to the porn shops that were farther up Wells, beyond the sterile area where the comedy shrine stood. I had never picked up a pen and put it to paper. All my dreams of comedy and acting and simply living life as a responsible human being were in my head. It was all about what I was going to do tomorrow or someday. Not today. Today I was high. I just wanted to be high.

I flipped my way through the pages of the magazines feeding darker addictions that took me out of myself and my racing thoughts. It wasn't the pictures. It was the rush and the naughtiness, the long walk and the anticipation of what awaited me. Addiction is just as much, if not more ritual, than the actual using. It is the whole package, not just the high.

On the way back down to the school I would pass by the club and dream some more unrealistic dreams and hop on the train back to Mokena downing a six pack for the hour ride home. Zanie's always stayed in my mind. It was just in my mind like everything else. Little did I know that the club would come back into my reality when I was working for Harrah's Casino in Joliet.

In 1991, as a member of group sales, it was my job to go to bars and restaurants and set up trips to the casino. My drinking was at an all time high or low depending on perspective. My boss gave me a lead which  was Zanie's on Wells. I met a limo driver named Paul A. He was trying to set up trips from the club to the casino. We met and went to the club. I was mesmerized. My eyes went in and out of focus from awe and a killer hangover. I had made it back, still no jokes and a bigger drunk. My follow up was terrible with Paul and Harrah's and both relationships ended on poor terms.

Tonight I return to Zanies as a performer. At 8pm I will be humbled beyond words. I am sober. I am a new creature. By the grace of God and other alcoholics, addicts and those who suffer from depression I no longer feel alone or that I am a victim or martyr. The beauty I see in women is in my wife. I have put my pen to paper and have written jokes. I have also put my soul into these pages. I hope I have shown others that there is choice. You don't have to use. You do need to ask for help. You can't get sound advice from an unsound mind. When the light hits my face tonight and I stand where the legends have stood I don't care if a single sole laughs. I caught the dream and will remember it.