Why I Don’t Drink

After reading last week’s Taxicab Tales about the drunk who grabbed a steak off someone’s plate and ran out of a restaurant, one of my readers said, “That sounds like something you would do, Nick.”

Not me, although I do love a good ribeye steak now and then. But I don’t drink. I haven’t had a drink since I was in the Army. Now I will admit that back when I was a young soldier, I did imbibe more than my mother would have approved of at times. But I’ve got to say, my friends, you wouldn’t have wanted to be around me back in those days.

There are mean drunks and sloppy drunks and fall-down-on-their-face drunks, and there are happy drunks. When I got drunk, I was the happiest man on earth. I knew I was so darned funny people just couldn’t resist me. And I wanted to talk to everybody I knew. I thought nothing of calling you at 2 a.m. to chat. If you didn’t answer the phone, I’d come knocking on your door. Yeah, I was a real pain in the rear end. I’m sure glad those days are over, and I’ll tell you why I don’t drink anymore.

I was at the NCO Club in Fort Bragg, North Carolina, which is now known as Fort Liberty, with a couple of my friends, and I won’t lie to you, I had a snoot full. For those who don’t know, Fort Bragg is home to the US Army’s Special Forces, better known as the Green Berets.

While we were drinking, I noticed a handsome Green Beret sergeant sitting at a table with a woman. I’m 100% straight, but I can appreciate a good-looking man when I see one as much as I can a good-looking woman, and this guy was awesome. He was tall, broad-shouldered, had a square jaw, and looked like he could be on a recruiting poster for Special Forces.

The woman he was with, however, was flat-out ugly. There’s no other way to say it. I was wondering why a good-looking guy like him would be with a woman like her. He seemed like the kind of man who could have his choice of any woman. Why her?

But I think everybody has to have some redeeming value, and the more I stared at this woman, I realized she had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. Forget Elizabeth Taylor or Bette Davis. They couldn’t hold a candle to this woman. At least that’s what I decided in my drunken state. And the more I drank, the uglier that woman got, and the more beautiful her eyes became.

I decided she needed a compliment, so I got up and stumbled to their table and said, “Excuse me, Sergeant, could I speak to this lady for a moment?”

He replied, “Yes, you can, Sergeant, but that lady is my wife.”

I told him I just wanted to give her a compliment. Then I turned to her and said, “Ma’am, I was sitting at my table with my friends, and I couldn’t stop staring at you. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I just couldn’t help it. You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. Your eyes should be in a work of art hanging in a museum.”

She smiled at me and said, “Well, thank you.”

I should have let it end there, but like I said, I thought I was funny when I was drunk. So then I said, “Your eyes are like a gift from heaven. The rest of you looks like a cold dog turd, but man, your eyes!”

I don’t remember much of what happened after that, except it seemed like the world’s largest Fourth of July fireworks show went off inside my skull. That man hit me so hard that I believe the back of my head hit the back of my neck! I remember falling across someone’s table and hitting the floor, and then everything went black. When I woke up the next morning. I was pretty sure there were three guys inside my cranium with jackhammers trying to get out. I couldn’t see straight for a couple of days, and it was a good week before my teeth tightened back up, so I didn’t have to worry about them falling out every time I opened my mouth to speak.

I decided then and there that drinking was not for me.

Congratulations Pam Junker, winner of our drawing for an autographed copy of His Private Diaries Begin, by TW Robinson, who was featured in last week’s Author Spotlight. A romance drama with a happily ever after ending that will warm your heart and leave you breathless, the book definitely doesn’t start out that way. When select excerpts from Jake Hunter’s private journals were stolen, posted online, and went viral, the world began to hate him for what appeared to be years of womanizing ways.

In response, Jake published every dirty little secret he’d ever kept, every deviant behavior he had ever participated in, and every morally questionable thing he’d ever written since the age of fifteen. Many expected to read the private diaries of a drunken sex fiend. Instead, people found the story of a little boy who had survived horrific childhood abuse with one devastating tragedy after another. It was the story of a lost child who had grown into a sad and lonely man using a parade of one-night stands, drugs, and alcohol to numb the pain of his traumatic youth. But Jake’s diaries weren’t about all the women he had been with over the years, as expected. His writing focused primarily on one woman — the woman he met, befriended, and fell in love with over time. Jake documented in great detail how her strength, friendship, and unconditional love brought him back from the brink of self-destruction. His Private Diaries Begin is the first book in a dark, contemporary, slow-burn, friends-to-lovers romance series like no other. WARNING: This story is not for the faint of heart. The content could be triggering for some people.

We had 33 entries this time around. Stay tuned, a new contest starts soon! Note: Due to the high shipping cost of printed books and Amazon restrictions on e-books to foreign countries, only entries with US addresses and e-mail addresses are allowed. After 30 days, unclaimed prizes revert back to the drawing pool for a future contest.

And finally, here’s a chuckle to start your day from the collection of funny signs we see in our travels and that our readers share with us.

Thought For The Day – If you don’t drink, how will your friends know you love them at 2 a.m.?