A Drunkard's Diary (Part 2): New Mexico, New Me

I loved living in England, more than I could ever possibly convey with words. If it was up to me, the Air Force could’ve left me there for the rest of my life and I’d die happy. Unfortunately, despite my best effort, the Air Force had other plans for me and sent me to Alamogordo, New Mexico – a place I hated so much I ultimately ended up separating from active duty rather than risk having to be there for an unknown number of years. It was there, in a small one bedroom apartment that actually cost me a little more than I could afford, that I learned how to properly drink on work nights. 

It took me a couple of bad work day hangovers to get my technique down, but by the time I left Holloman AFB for the comfort of home, I was fully knowledgeable in being a functional alcoholic. The trick was to start drinking as soon as I got home from work, so that I could be sure I’d be falling asleep with that comfortable drunkenness that helped me forget how much I hated my current circumstance in life. Just as important as being sure to start drinking as soon as possible was to have a set time I stopped drinking (about nine p.m. those days) so I could be sure I had plenty of time to recover. I’d also started getting into wine at this point in my life and by continually buying new wines to try out, I was able to tell myself I was being a connoisseur and not on a road to alcoholism. 

Now I didn’t drink every night and I didn’t always drink to get drunk, but as my short time there dragged on my sober nights became continuously rarer. In addition to prepping myself for being a world class wine-taster, I made sure I always had an excuse to drink: I was either depressed about living in New Mexico, depressed about a girl, or celebrating my eventual separation from the military. And to me, this was good; alcoholics drink just to be drunk, but I had actual reasons for drinking. 

While I certainly didn’t consider myself an alcoholic by any means back in those days, I did have the feeling I was well on the way to becoming one if I didn’t change my ways. Fortunately, I knew my days left in Alamogordo were numbered and there was a certain sense of relief for me in not only would I be leaving there, but I’d be able to get back to normal drinking habits as soon as I was back home in Alaska.