Thank you, thank you.
I would like to thank all the little people that helped me along the way. Mostly the banking folk at Coast Capital Savings, and PC Financial who keep reminding me that I have no money to spend on booze. My brain cells, in conjunction with my liver give you their hearty applause in this one week of sobriety.
I wont lie, it was and still is a difficult path to tread. When living the hostel life, alcohol and debauchery almost become second nature to the avid traveler. Food and good sense take a back seat to sex, drugs, and rock and roll.
Some may call me a quitter, while others remain too fucked up to make coherent sentences. But I, Husain motherfucking Vahanvaty, will remain vigilant in my quest of not drinking until I absolutely have to (which will probably be until tomorrow because Im meeting someone for drinks, but hey I tried).
Backpacking alone and sober is quite the experience that everyone should try only once in their life. I once called alcohol a social lubricant, and by god it has never rang truer than in this past week. You see people who remain hermits throughout the day until the goon or VB gets brought out onto the table. Personalities take a dramatic shift, often taking on a livelier tone. Stories of grandeur and opulence spill out of mouths which otherwise dont utter much throughout the day. Gestures of love, hate, disgust all make an appearance (on a good night that is!) leaving the drinker exhausted from such an outpouring of emotion.
Alcohol has a tendency to reveal truth to an observant individual. You can often form a pretty strong picture of ones true personality when under the drink. Obviously you cannot judge an individual fully from one night of mayham but there is some truth in those actions. It can (again only to the observant person), shed some light on what one hides underneath.
Oh ye beautiful spirit.
What was I talking about again?
No comments:
Post a Comment