Minor trigger warning for the NEWLY SOBER
What follows is a humorous mostly true account of a tough day I had in Amsterdam whilst still an active alcoholic.
Some leaps of logic have been made as my memory of the time is not how you would say “perfect” and some events have been streamlined for ease of storytelling.
I’m posting to hopefully make you smile, and to remind myself of just how far i have come in my sobriety journey.
“HEY!”
Oh god, why does consciousness always hit like a ton of bricks
“HEY!”
The world hurts Today, what did I do last night?
I can taste vomit,
How much did I drink? Why am I wet?
“HEY!”
Oh man my head
“GET OFF OF MY BOAT”
I wish that man would stop yelling……Did he say boat?
Cautiously I opened my eyes, the painful rays of light make the throbbing in my head worse.
The man doing the yelling, is a big bearded man who in any other circumstance would have had a kindly face.
“Excuse me” I manage to squeeze past my aching vocal cords.
“Oh good” the man exclaims with a heavy dutch accent “He’s not dead”
“Daisy, Nee”(no) He says to a young woman brandishing a bucket of water standing next to me.
She reluctantly relaxes from her attacking position.
I try a smile, it makes my face hurt, so i go back to painless bewildered look.
Using all of my strength I squeeze out “Where am I?”
“In Amsterdam” he responds “Now hop it”
Amsterdam? But that’s miles from my sisters. I need more information, how did I get here? What day is it? Why is the floor rocking? I sum all these questions up into an eloquent sentence, fix the man with my best steely look ready myself to speak and …proceed to throw up in his potted daffodils.
The man looks to the woman “Doe Het”
SPLOOSH the bucket of water is as refreshing as it is painful.
“Now get off my damn boat”
The woman has grabbed a mop and is pushing me towards the edge.
I clutch my side and roll over, staggering onto my feet.
I hop off the boat and onto the footpath, steadying myself on a bicycle.
I try to stand upright but find hunching hurts much less.
Seeing a sign that points towards Amsterdamn central train station I start to hobble in that direction.
It hurts to breath but each fresh lung full of air hits me like a healing wind. “Its going to be ok” I tell myself.
Stopping next to a cafe I lean my arm against the window to keep my balance. For the first time that day I get a grips of my reflection.
I’m not wearing a shirt?! What the hell, I’ve got a chipped tooth and have bruises everywhere. Was I in a fight? What the hell happened.
Looking past my reflection and into the cafe I see a Well dressed woman on the other side of the glass trying to enjoy a morning tea and crumpets. I try smiling (ouch) I should really stop that. The sight of food make my stomach do a somersault, I’m not sure if I’m Hungary or about to throw up again.
I wave the lady goodbye and make my way towards the station.
I watch a child walk past me eating some mayonnaise chips, she dumps the half finished packet in a bin, bearing no care for my surroundings I dive into the bin after the food. I throw a few of the greasy salty chips in my mouth…… Moments later I return them to the bin covered in a second wave of vomit.
The station is only a few hundred meters but it feels like a marathon. Flashes of the night before go through my head, Beers, shots, Schnapps Toilets, Vomiting, Kebabs
I make it to the station, I spend far too much time trying to focus on the big clock…. I think its 0930 in the morning. For the first time I think about my phone. My hand shoots to my pocket. OF COURSE my phone will have the answers!!!
I pull it out, wipe the water from the front, it is, of course dead. Filled with a new purpose I look around for a solution.
A waiter is taking chairs off tables at the Cafe Loetje. I run / hobble over to him and in my incredibly broken dutch including several miss used words of French and some German try to communicate id like a phone charger.
He says in perfect English “We open in half an hour, but shirts are normally a requirement for service”
I must have looked a complete shambles as his resolve soon crumbled, “Sit at the table in the corner” he said.
I fall into a chair in the corner and lean back My chest is killing me.
A plane flies over head, this seems important but I can’t put my finger on why.
The waiter walks over to me with a charger a t shirt and a coffee
I don’t remember asking for the coffee but I reach into my pocket pulling out €1.50 I hold it out hopefully. “Don’t worry party man, this ones on me, just do me a favour and put a shirt on”
I thank the waiter , I watch him as he goes back to the counter and gets money out of the tip jar to pay for my coffee, a pang of guilt hits me.
I plug my phone in The screen lights up!, At least its not broken.
I sip at the coffee and feel the sun on my face while the phone charges enough to boot up.
These old buildings are really pretty, maybe ill move here one day. Under any other circumstances this would be a beautiful morning.
The phone dings and dings AND DINGS.
So many angry messages, so many confused messages, from strangers, from people I haven’t thought of in years though have apparently been messaging while blacked out. Too many to go through, ill apologise to them all later. I just need to find out where my stuff is.
I swipe closed the multiple texting apps and open my email. Scrolling past the online check in for my flight tomorrow I find my hotel reservation. Nice looking place, cheap enough, about 1.2km away. Ill sit here until my hangover recedes a little more, wit the coffee an the sun, then ill wander back and crash for a bit, Ill come back tonight and return this waiters shirt. Maybe take him out for a drink to repay his kindness.
The phone dings again. Mum “Great to see you on Monday, Have a good flight” Monday? Weird way for her to talk about yesterday and she got my flight wrong its not till tomorrow.
The bottom of my stomach falls out.
I run up to the counter and try to get the waiters attention.
“Hey, Um, What day is it?”
“Chill out party man, its Wednesday”
Wednesday!!! But I went out for a drink on Monday night! Wednesday I have a flight Wednesday afternoon! FUCKING WEDNESDAY!
I glance up at the clock, 10:30! If my flights at 1pm I need to be at the airport by 12 absolute latest,I should go get on a train. But my stuff is at this hotel. (I hope)
I throw the water his charger and start to RUN my phon on 28% battery guiding the way. Trying to do the maths in my head. The hotel is 1.2 km away , I could run that in 10 min. But that’s sober and I feel like I’m about to die. Oh fuck it just run. You idiot.
Exhausted, I find the hotel, 12 flights of stairs to the lobby and 5 more to my room. These old building can suck my dick, I get to the check in desk. My stuff is in a pile in front of it.
“I’m sorry” I blurt out. The cashier gives me a dirty look and holds out a credit card machine €150. Miraculously my emergency credit card and passport are in my suitcase. Lacking the time or ability to argue the charges I tap the card and pray that it will go through.
Ding , it’s accepted. Thank the old gods and the new.
The cashier holds out a receipt, I snatch ti and grab my suitcase and throw it down the 12 flights of stairs. Apologies to the U11’s soccer team that we’re making their way up.
Back on the street I check my phone, 18% battery 11:03 A train leaves for the airport in 27 min……RUN
Dragging my suitcase through the cobbled streets of Amsterdam,I run to the station.
As I pass the cafe, unable to breath I pull off the t shirt leant to me by the waiter and throw it at him.
“Merci” I yell. That was French you idiot, AND he speaks English. No time to explain, get on that train.
I drag the my suitcase into the station, tap my credit card and run to the platform.
As I set foot on the train the doors close behind me.
Collapsing into a seat I grab a shirt from my bag then open my emails and check into my flight, 8% phone battery.
The train gets to the airport and I head over to digital check in and get through security.
I get through security, random bomb check (of course) then head over to my gate.
THANK GOD THERES A BAR
I have ten minutes till boarding, time for a swift drink I order two pints and a shot, finish them with time to spare so order another pint.
Get onto the flight, stinking of booze and puke,
Pass out sleeping on a broken rib and multiple bruises.
Get back to Australia get the cab home to stop at the bottle shop, don’t get any food. Get home cry drink through the pain.
This is NOT my rock bottom story.
It would take me 3 more years to admit I had a drinking problem and another 2 to actually take action.
I am currently 1296 days (or 3 1/2 years) sober and my life couldn’t be more different.
I’m married, have a daughter, and a job that I love. I still get stressed, and sad on occasion but don’t drink to deal with the demons any more.
If you’re on day 1 or day 1000 of sobriety or you’re just sober curious know that you are loved , I believe in you and I’m glad you’re here.
If you’ve enjoyed reading this, please let me know, writing is one of my outlets and therapies.
thanks for sharing too
and I really enjoyed reading it.
