homework assignment

I awoke on the morning of March 15th, hung over from the night before. I had the most incredulous dream, the kind that feels like it was real. In this dream, I was arrested for drinking and driving. The imagery was vivid, and it felt as though it was actually happening. The cop took me out of the car, put me in the cop car in the front seat in handcuffs. As he drove me away…he held my hand and promised me everything would be ok.

I awoke freaked out. It felt so real.

With a pounding headache and a lust for a cool drink of water and some Advil, I descended down the stairs to grab the phone and call my sister. We don't talk very often, but for some reason, I felt an immense need to call her immediately. We talked for hours about drinking and driving. She explained that she doesn't do it anymore. We talked about how I do, and how it's not really ok.

I knew the dream was an omen, and that it was time to be careful when I go out in the future.

We talked at great lengths about our habits of drinking, and I thought about how much I had been drinking and maybe it was time to scale back.

As the day went on, I did the usual to nurse my hangover from the night before. I had thrown a big party at the Bearsville on Friday night, which was a huge success. As well as it went, I couldn't help but feel alone. Lost. And hung-over. I hyper analyzed my life that day. Going over each aspect of what is happening with my career and life at home and just about everything else I could put together.

I didn't do much else that day. Watched movies. Hung out. Ate my favorite hangover food, popped more advils and drank more lemonade to kill the pain.

It was Saturday night. I didn't want to spend it at home alone.

In my usual pattern, I got dressed up and headed out to my weekly treat, dinner at The Bear Café. Upon arrival, I was greeted by my favorite bartender, who offered me a glass of wine to start off my night. My dinner was my usual, filet mignon, my absolute favorite thing on the menu. I had a second glass of wine with dinner. It was a lovely meal.

While eating, I was met by an acquaintance, who joined me for coffee at the end of my meal. I decided to treat myself to a Sambuca. Come on, it was a celebratory night, it was Saturday.

Something clicked in my brain as I walked out of the restaurant. I was noticeably drunk. I don't normally get drunk so quickly. Something just kicked in.

After dinner, we headed together over to the Bearsville Theater to catch a band I was looking forward to seeing. Instead of ordering soda or water, I continued to drink. Various people were buying me drinks. I didn't bother to say no. I just kept drinking. I barely enjoyed the show. I was too caught up in the fact that it wasn't enough of a party for me.

And so my night went on. I kept driving from bar to bar, looking for the party. It's difficult to put down what it was like…this feeling of wanting "something" to happen. I wanted to find the Fun. In the end, I was just drinking and bar hopping with no purpose in sight.

Somehow, I ended up in Kingston's bar infested uptown. More barhopping.

I don't really remember a whole lot from here.

A bag of cheetos…and another drink… before getting in my car to make the trip back to Mount Tremper.

I have made this trek in this condition many times before. I was a pro. So I thought.

While driving up 28 West … I was messing with my iPod, and at that moment, I got popped.

What's crazy is, I saw it all happen already. Same cop, same scenario. All I could do was cry like a little girl. I was guilty, I had no excuse. My first thought was that I would have to move back to Brooklyn, because I was going to lose my license and how would I get to go out anymore. My second thought was, "OH MY GOD, I AM A MOMMY AND THIS NEEDS TO STOP NOW."

This is the last night I have had a drink. It has been 87 days, and I'm clean and sober.

There's no way I could ever do this again.