Sunday will be the 100th day since my last drink. I don't usually write these things on Sundays, and those nights are busy anyway, so I'll get a head start on this. Boy, will it be embarrassing if I fall off the wagon tomorrow . . .
I used to work as a parts driver for the City of Elmhurst. Back then one of my duties was to give employees rides when needed, in particular police officers. When the cop cars needed to be dropped off, I'd give the officers a ride back to the PD so they can continue doing their jobs.
(Incidentally, I had my own set of keys that would start any Elmhurst cop car. Every time you think I'm irresponsible just remember that I never--not once--ever took advantage of that fact and the fact that I used to know the code to get into the PD garage. I could have gone joyriding at any time in a cop car, and the chances of me being caught were fairly low. But I never did that.)
This time I was giving an officer a ride to the garage to pick up his car. On the way I saw this middle-aged guy weaving on a bike, headed toward Rt. 83 on St. Charles. This was in front of Kohl's, and if you know the area it is a terrible place to ride a bike under the best of circumstances.
"See that guy?" the officer said. "That's our town drunk."
I felt offended at first. You mean, *I* am not the town drunk? How could that possibly be? It was a pretty arrogant thing to think considering that I wasn't that hard of a drinker back then. I only drank on weekends and very rarely to excess. There were times, sure, but they were few and far between. I was nowhere near being an alcoholic yet, but I was on my way. Under no circumstances could I have ever qualified for being a town drunk.
But I felt jealous. I should be the town drunk. Should I drink more? Was that what it took?
The officer continued to tell me about this guy, and it was a pretty sad story. He lived at home with his elderly mom who watched nothing but game shows all day, and this guy had to get out to have any kind of a life. So he'd get plastered in bars and get in trouble with the law. He was riding the bike because his license had been permanently revoked.
What a weird person to be jealous of. I thought about that guy often. That was waaaaaaay back in the early post-9/11 days. I'd put it at around 2002 or so. I was still in my early twenties and had no idea how low I'd sink into booze. There were a few times, in my drunkest of moods, that I wondered if I would ever qualify for the position of town drunk. It never occurred to me that I'd have to be out in public to even have a chance at the title. By the time the booze really took hold I was mostly an at-home drinker. I'd gotten a DUI, but I was found not guilty. I was nowhere near losing my license.
It never occurred to me during that time if that poor bastard was still alive. In fact the thought just occurred to me now as I write this. I'd wager he's gone. His mother surely is. Considering my own situation, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to deal with it if I was still drinking like a fiend. If he didn't get help, then he's probably dead and gone.
If he is, though, I wonder if the Elmhurst cops still tell stories about him. The guy I talked to seemed to think he was pathetic but mostly harmless. He didn't hate the guy or make fun of him. He just thought the guy was sad and slightly amusing.
Does his name still ring in the halls of the PD to this day? If so, maybe he's not quite so dead and gone as I think. They say you die twice. Once when you physically die. Second when the last person who remembers you dies.
A somber thought for a Friday night. Sleep tight.
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