Deleted Scene: The Geographical Cure

Josh wanted an “Alcoholics Anonymous in Korea” story for the paper so I went down to the U.S.O. and met a guy from Australia who told me when he quit drinking he didn’t have anything left.

His drinking brought him to Korea. Leaving behind Australia and his job, trying to escape what was coming for him.

We went upstairs to the speaker meeting. There were 50 or so people in the room. Men, women, old, young, black, white, attractive, ugly—all types. They all seemed like truth tellers. The woman whose turn it was to speak told a story of growing up in the 60s, dropping acid and having a lot of sex. She had as many men as Bukowski had women. “I don’t have a lot of memory left,” she said. I didn’t feel like I was like her, but I didn’t feel like I was that different, either. This woman, with her long, blonde, straight hair and ravaged face, told story after story about losing everything. The people at the meeting listened, drinking coffee, laughing when the story became the most absurd. They were on caffeine and the truth. That was what was getting them through.

After I got home from the meeting I went to the store and bought a gallon of milk, a Kronenburg, and ordered a pizza. I enjoyed that beer, but that A.A. meeting made it a lot easier not to want to get drunk. Instead I started looking for a scene to get in.