Maybe. Maybe Not.

 Our Monday meeting is based on the Big Book - the leader reads a sentence or paragraph from the first 164 pages and then speaks on what was read.  At about the halfway point a man shouted what sounded like an obscenity outside the building.  This isn't terribly unusual at our urban location.  Shortly afterwards a powerfully built younger guy came down the stairs and entered the room, carrying a banana, a cup of coffee, and a set of keys.  

(This sounds like the set-up of a bad vaudeville bit.  "He ate the coffee and the keys and was jamming the banana into the ignition of a Maserati . . . when a Jewish priest came up and asked for directions to the ashram . . . . ")

He didn't look like he was homeless but he had a vaguely confrontational air about him.  The meeting ended, people split off into twos or threes to chat, the guy got up, collected his belongings and starting drifting to the door.  It's a source of pride with me that you can't sneak out of my meeting without interacting with someone so I intercepted him, a touch warily, I admit, and introduced myself, asked how his day was going.  He stood there for a few beats, collecting himself, when his lips started trembling.  Not very good, he said, I'm not having a very good day.  I could see tears welling up in his eyes.  I just waited patiently.  Eventually, he starting listing all the shit going on in his life that wasn't too great.  His eyes filled up and tears ran down his cheeks and dripped onto the floor.  He made no attempt to wipe his face or stop weeping.

It made me think of the despair I felt when I was ending my long, brutal run unsuccessfully trying to best King Alcohol.  I really had no words of wisdom.  I mean, what can you say?  Except that it's going to get better and you don't have to feel this way anymore if you don't want to.  Alcohol is a tireless enemy if you're an alcoholic.  It does not give up.

I'm not the most tolerant guy in the world when it comes to . . .  well . . . people in general.  I think most people are idiots.  I think I'm an idiot.  We're all fucking idiots.  The point being that I don't really care much about sponsoring people.  I don't see the point in telling someone else what to do.  I don't know what they should do.  Why would someone want me to tell them what to do?  I'm happy to tell you what worked for me and then you can decide if the results are something that's attractive to you.  If so, maybe you try it yourself.  If not, no skin off my back.  I had to find my own way and you will, too.  Circling back to the point again which I lost track of is that I've found a way to bring my own experience, strength, and hope to The Program.  As Mr. Outgoing I tackle the new people before they can escape.

Think we'll see that dude again?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  There was another brand new guy who came to several meetings.  Three of us were standing in line after one when this dude came storming out of the bathroom, cursing the employee who obviously didn't want a homeless looking guy using their bathroom.  He blew past us, head down.  Haven't seen him again.  Our embarrassing behavior!