I landed at Seattle airport a little bit ago and have a 2 hour wait before my shuttle leaves for my 90 minute drive home. I remember a couple of years ago I convinced myself (which didn’t take much!) that drinking in an airport while traveling alone didn’t count in the land of sobriety.
I just walked by the only bar this side of freedom from security and airline gates, where I didn’t have to dump my water out to enter. I’d spent a memorable time 4 or so years ago in this bar while again, waiting for the shuttle. This is the glorious bar where, for the first and only time in my life, a bartender stopped serving me. I’d walked into the bar already drunk because I’d been drinking in between passing out or sleeping for the previous 3 days.
I drank prior to boarding my plane and of course I’d had 3 drinks on the plane though I refrained from ordering double shots as was my norm. I certainly didn’t want the flight attendants to think I had a problem! So by the time I got to the bar I was feeling pretty good. I sat at the bar and attempted to look like I was just another person waiting for a ride home. I ordered a glass of wine believing it would give me the appearance of a “normal” drinker. I also asked for a menu, though by that time in my drinking career, my meals were all liquid because that’s all I could stomach. Food was always an afterthought because it made me sick while liquor didn’t.
An older gentleman was sitting next to me and we started chatting. He had ordered some appetizers and offered to share them with me. I took a piece of bruschetta and nursed it for the duration of our interaction. It became apparent fairly quickly that this nice, older gentleman was flirting with me. He bought me a glass of wine at which point I found it perfectly acceptable to flirt back with a man at least 15 years my senior who wasn’t remotely attractive.
Luckily for me, he had to leave a short while later as his shuttle had arrived. Which was a relief because I was done entertaining him for free appetizers and wine. All I wanted to do was drink without being bothered. By that point, I was starting to regret sitting at the bar. I should have sat alone in the restaurant area.
In the pmhour after he left, I ordered 3 double shots of vodka with a splash of cranberry and twist of lime. I thought adding the cranberry and lime would make it appear as though I was someone who genuinely enjoyed and appreciated the taste of vodka. It didn’t matter that I always ordered the cheapest house vodka, I was a connoisseur after all!
During that hour I had also managed to miss my 7:30 pm shuttle so I would have to wait for 2 hours for the next one. I was annoyed I’d missed it but then I realized I could stay at the bar and drink, which seemed like a great consolation. A consolation I deserved of course because the shuttle driver hadn’t come inside the terminal to personally let me know he had arrived to pick me up.
When I tried to order a 4th drink, the bartender looked at me with concern and told me she wouldn’t serve me anymore. I sobered up for a moment from shock and embarrassment. She couldn’t possibly believe I wasn’t in complete control of myself! I stammered and slurred my speech as I asked why. I honestly can’t remember what she said to me, but I do remember she clearly and firmly asked me to leave. I clumsily gathered up my belongings and tried not to trip on my way out, indignant and adamant that I was just fine.
Of course I left on the hunt for another bar, knowing full well there wasn’t another one but hoping I’d missed one in a back corner somewhere. I started to panic when I couldn’t find one. I had an hour and a half before the next shuttle arrived. I had to keep my buzz going. But looking back now, it was really more that I didn’t want to start going through withdrawal from lack of alcohol. I sat down in bank of chairs by the baggage carousels trying to figure out what to do. I considered leaving the airport by taxi and going to a liquor store but that seemed a little desperate. I certainly wasn’t desperate! Then I came up with the great idea to go back to the bar and sit in the restaurant area and see if I could go unnoticed.
I let about 45 minutes pass, then I teetered up to the restaurant area, the withdrawal shakes already apparent, and slipped into a seat at one of the table. Truth is the “restaurant area” was only a handful of tables which encircled the bar. Even though there were maybe 5 people in the same area, I was sure the bartender wouldn’t notice me, especially with my back to the bar. A server came by and looked at me suspiciously and took my order. I knew if I ordered my usual double vodka it would make the bartender suspicious so I decided on a dirty martini with extra olives and I declined to order any food.
It couldn’t have been more than 2 minutes later that bartender showed up at my table. Instead of concern she now looked really pissed. She didn’t even have to say anything for me to get up and leave.Once again I teetered out of the bar and found a place to sit close to the door where the shuttle parked. Then I proceeded to fall asleep (which was more like pass out). If not for a loud group of passengers gathered behind me waiting for their luggage to come off the carousel, I would have missed the next shuttle.
Missing transportation had been the theme of my trip home. I missed my initial morning flight because I was far too hung over to get up. I was able to reschedule for a late afternoon flight but there was a lot more traffic than I anticipated and after I had dropped the rental car off and ran to the counter, I had missed the flight by 10 minutes. The next flight wasn’t until the next morning.
I was pissed I was going to have to wait. Then I decided to rent a car again, get a hotel room next to the airport, and of course run to the closest store and buy a fifth of vodka. I’d have all night to drink by myself with no one to bother me. I stopped being pissed at that point because hey, I was going to make the best of it!
As I sit here with almost 3 years of sobriety I look at the bar wondering if the same bartender is still there. There’s a guy serving up drinks right now. So I just sit and stare, going over the insanity of those 2 days in my head. I’m in awe of my lack of awareness that what I was doing was a completely dangerous fucking shit show. I have no idea how I’m still alive. Especially since, while a pretty extreme example of my self destruction, I put myself in plenty of other dangerous and risky situations.
I heard something once that has stuck with me since I got sober; the only way to stay clean or sober is to create a life you want more than you want to use. While my life now is far from being easy and can often be difficult, the thought of being back in that bar drinking double shots of vodka to drown out my shame and self loathing, is incredibly terrifying to me. It’s difficult to wrap my head around how I ever arrived at that point and that’s because I’m still doing my best to get to the heart of it all. What I do know after 2 years, 9 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days sober (not that I’m counting) is that each of us does what we have to do to survive. We use what we need to until it doesn’t work anymore. My hope for anyone else who has gone as far down the rabbit hole as I have, is that they’re strong enough to climb back out to freedom. Unfortunately, the odds are so stacked against anyone trying to climb out. I’m committed to doing what I can to help anyone who needs or asks for help.
Oh, and after my 2 days of inebriated chaos, I made the plane the next morning and the shuttle in Seattle. Somehow I managed to get home safely. The God I believe in has been looking out for me for a very long time.
