Yeah

 I'm a cross-talking son of a bitch . . . 

The dude who led the meeting today was familiar to me as a dude who came to us three or four years back, refusing to say that he was an alcoholic.  Fair enough.  You don't have to say anything you don't want to say.  You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.  When I say  "I'm an alcoholic" it's to remind me that I'm an alcoholic, not to convince anyone else.  Whether you think I'm an alcoholic or not is none of my business and concerns me not a whit.  This guy tickled me when he was getting started.  He was annoyed and his annoyance was quite apparent.  He wasn't trying to hide his annoyance.  Frankly, I'd rather deal with the annoyed member than with the new person who is having way too much fun.  If you've started coming to A.A. it means things have gotten pretty bad and it has typically been bad for way too long a time.  Don't tell me that everything's OK.  You're in a seven A.M. meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous, for fuck's sake.  How good can it be?

We had about thirty-five members today so I took up my blocking position near the door to make sure no one escaped without a greeting.  A few people pause in their outward scuttling to chat for a few beats so I believe I'm doing something worthwhile.  No one took a swing at me or spit on me or anything like that.  There was no cursing.  One of my new friends stopped on the way out to ask if I was coming to the meeting next Saturday.  "Good," she said.  "I have family coming to visit and I want them to meet you."  This Program never ceases to amaze me.  I had eight years of sobriety when this woman was born.  I'm never sure what someone brand new sees when they look at old farts like me sitting there in my pork-pie hat and thrift store suit jacket.  We never know who/how/when/why we make a difference.