Just A Drunk In LA

When my nephew and his wife lived in LA, my sister and I frequently inflicted ourselves on them. We would visit 2-3 times a year. Who doesn't want a vacation at the beach - especially if lodging was free? Besides, who wouldn't want to have such wonderful people staying with them? We would cook, clean and take them out to dinner. It was a win/win situation. Alas, they moved back home a couple of years ago. Today's post is about an experience I was involved in while I was visiting there.

We loved this little pizza shop at a strip mall in Torrence, CA, called Giorgio's and went there for lunch almost everyday. Giorgio's wasn't anything spectacular but the staff are fun and friendly and the food is good. We would sit at a small table right outside the door, plan our day, watch people going by and enjoy the weather.

One day, while we were there, a young man was pacing back and forth along the sidewalk. He would walk from one end of the little shopping center to the other, often stopping at a car to get a tissue, get a drink of soda, sit for 2.5 seconds. There was a woman sitting in the car, which was parked right in front of where my sister and I were seated, waiting patiently while the guy paced. It was obvious that the guy was really agitated. On one of his 'laps' he was on the phone and, of course, I eavesdropped.

"No, man, I can't", the kid said. "No, I really can't! My sponsor told me I couldn't go anywhere until he picks me up for the meeting tonight." My interest in the kid increased markedly. He was speaking my language! (Not English; recovery.) Suddenly, I'm looking at his behavior with a new understanding and compassion. The guy was new to recovery! No wonder he was restless, getting in and out of the car, pacing back and forth.

The thought came: You should introduce yourself and tell him you are also in recovery.

You have GOT to be kidding me! Go up to a stranger? This is LA! Road rage was invented here. People shoot people here! (Like they don't shoot each other anywhere else, too.)

Go talk to him.

I'll tell You what. If the kid makes direct eye contact with me, I'll do it. Otherwise, forget it.

I tell my sister what's up. She looks at me like I'm daft. Still, this is the agreement between the old HP and I and I will keep my part of the bargain. (This is how I determine the old HP's will for me when something as bizarre as this idea pops into my head: If this happens, I'll know it's really what you want me to do.) The kid gets into the car and looks straight at me. Sigh... So I go knock on the window of the car, hoping I live through this encounter. The kid opens the door and I say, "I couldn't help but overhear your phone conversation earlier. I'm in recovery, too, and remember how horrible those first few weeks were so I thought I'd introduce myself and see if you needed to chat."

The woman leaned forward to look at me like I was from another planet. The kid said, "I'm okay", and smiled at me. I thought his shoulders relaxed a bit. I told him a few amusing anecdotes from my own early days. We both laughed at them. He asked where I went to meetings and I told him I was visiting from out of town. After a few moments we said goodbye. I wished him luck and they drove away. My sister told me that you could see him relax while I was talking to him. "It was like something came over him, taking away all the stress. You could see it happening! It was really cool to watch.!"

Really cool to be a part of, too. These are the signs from the old HP that He is with me, wherever I go, whatever I do. I find it comforting. And every once in a while, I get to be a part of delivering His grace to another human being. These are spiritual experiences. They are a message that, even though I'm just a drunk, the old HP still finds a use for me. The old HP can find value in me. Despite all the truly crappy things I've said and done, He still loves me. These are the things that tell me the old HP has forgiven me which then allows me to forgive myself. I think about that kid in LA once in a while and wonder what his interpretation of that day might be. We'd never seen each other before and I doubt we'll see each other again. Did he think I was an angel sent by the old HP in his hour of need? I'm not. I'm just another recovering alcoholic that the old HP loves and forgives enough to call upon to do His will. And for that I am truly grateful.