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Grapevine : January 2011
Sixty days into my so- briety, around 10 P.M., during a cold 20-below-zero dark night in 2009, my old self-will deceived me into leaving a treatment facility in Wasilla, Alaska. Located on a ranch, the facility was, at that time in my life, the only hope and salvation from a lifetime of substance abuse. After intense objections from staff counselors, clients, my biological son and my AA sponsor, I remained stubborn and determined to prove everything was under control when realistically my way of thinking was THE DRUNK WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD The bitter Alaskan wind blows a lost cause into the rooms of AA way out of control. So, there I was walking off into the unknown of an Alaskan sub-artic night. Several choices confronted me: a) return to Fairbanks to a sce- nario deeply resented, b) venture to Anchorage, maybe joining hundreds of other lost souls, or c) visit a bar to prove or disprove the insane rumored possibility that bartenders will accept Alcoholics Anonymous sobriety coins NESS POWERLESS 12 January 2011