Everything was loud. And very funny. Even though it didn't seem that humorous to me. And it went on til about midnight with banging of doors, screaming and drama.
After a while we reached our limit and called security. While their visit seemed to quell their exuberance somewhat, they still spent most of the night carrying on – albeit at a lower tempo.
In the morning I began to reflect on my own drinking. And somehow I prettied it up by telling myself that I was never as bad as the neighbors who interrupted our serenity the night before. For a few moments I was sure I never bothered anyone.
But, of course, that’s a self-serving distortion of my history. My drinking, what I recall of it (because there are many years I don’t remember much at all), got me into all kinds of difficulty. And I’m sure a lot of it wasn’t very quiet.
In fact, my drinking was so bad at one point, that other criminals and addicts didn’t want to associate with me because I was so reckless and out of control.
I need always remember the dark places my disease took me.
