Anonymous No More

I've mentioned Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) on this website a few times, but only in passing.  Since my blog has helped me develop a webby relationship with many of you, I feel it's time for me to come clean.

A little over eight years ago I attended my first meeting of AA.  That evening, for the first time in my life, I admitted to a group of people that I am an alcoholic. 

For most people, this moment is one of the most memorable in their lives because it’s the first step on the long, winding, and endless road to recovery.

For me it was memorable because I'm not actually an alcoholic.

I went to the meeting that night with a friend, one of the closest I've ever had.  Brian (not his real name) was struggling with addictions to alcohol and drugs at the time and had been sober for several months.  In fact, I think he probably looked me up so he could have a sober buddy for a while.  (Yep, I'm the guy you call when you want to be assured of absolute boredom and sobriety.) 

At the time, my only addiction was hanging out with Brian.  We hung out so much that we'd run tedious errands with each other just so we could continue hanging out.  On the night in question, we were hanging out, and Brian started hemming and hawing about some commitment he had.  When pressed, he admitted it was AA, but then said there was a "friends of AA" thing, so I could come along, and we could keep hanging out.

Upon arriving we found everyone arranged in a single, giant circle, so we grabbed a couple of open seats and the meeting began.  The first thing was introductions, with every one taking a turn, clockwise.  Being the quick-minded fellow that I am, it only took fifteen or so "Hi, my name is so-and-so and I'm an alcoholic" statements for me to realize the horrifying truth: This was a full-on AA meeting — no "friends" here.

And these were more than mere introductions.  People were confiding in the group the temptations, setbacks, and accomplishments since their last meeting.  They were doing so with the confidence that they were speaking to a group of fellow alcoholics, meaning my presence was wholly inappropriate, to say the least.  It was like a wood polisher being mistaken for a priest in a confessional.

When my turn came around, I was frantic.  So I asked myself the same question I always do when I find myself in ethical quandaries — a question that has never let me down: WWFD?  As in, "What would Frazier do?" 

So I lied.

ME:  Hi, my name is Jason and I'm an alcoholic.
GROUP:  Hi Jason!
ME:  This is my first meeting and I've been sober for one month.
GROUP:  Good job.  Good!
[Facilitator hands me a blue poker chip.  Everyone has a chip, the color signifying the length of one's sobriety.]
ME:  Cool.  A chip.  I wonder if Gambler's Anonymous gives out shot glasses.
GROUP:  [nothing]
CRICKETS:  Chirp, chirp.
FACILITATOR:  Thank you, Jason.

The rest of the meeting is a blur, save one thing.  Once my heart rate returned to a reasonable level, I realized I recognized one of the men in the circle.  It was a guy who had attended my high school, one year behind me, which really freaked me out.  After all, if I was willing to lie about the alcoholic part, maybe he was willing to lie about the anonymous part. 

So for those of you who’ve heard the rumor of my drinking problem, it's not true.  Just ask those who know me: I'm way too lazy for any addiction.  Even if I aspired to be a crack addict I'd give it up inside a week.  ("You mean I have to go downtown again?  I was just there two days ago!  Man, screw this.")

Given my history, though, I should probably look into some other kind of group.  Maybe there's a Liars Anonymous.  Wouldn't that be a fun group?

FRED: Hi, my name is Fred and I'm a liar.  I've been clean for, well, less than a second now.  My name is Jeff.

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Placing an anti-procrastination tool on the Internet is like hosting an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting inside a brewery. -- Leon Bambrick