The Last Of The Last

Eleven years ago, I drank my last beer. My last alcoholic anything. After starting the morning with the usual vodka and Gatorade, I pillaged whatever booze I had in the house and passed out sometime after dinner. I wasn't a big beer fan then- too much liquid for too little booze. But a friend had visited the week before and he left three beers behind him. When we were walking back from the liquor store with those beers, I could have hardly understood that he was carrying what would be the last three drinks, hopefully of my life. I don't remember what sort of beer it was. Some watery light crap or something. I don't remember drinking them but when my gf came home that night and found me shattered on the couch, she asked me how much I'd drank and I vaguely recall gesturing to the kitchen counter where the three empties were located, as if I'd only had three beers that day.The next morning I checked out the San Diego AA web site and went to a meeting at lunch, scared shitless that without the one thing that could keep me sane, only depression and struggle awaited me. Boy, was I wrong.