He got himself a glass of water and a knife and fork and a small plate. He sat down and started trimming meat off the carcass of the chicken. He didn'... speak a word to me, and I didn't say anything either. He peeled the chicken off of the bones and carefully put the meat on his plate. When he got done, he went and got some mayonnaise out of the fridge. He scooped some of it onto his plate, and then took the mayonnaise back to the fridge. Next, he sprinkled salt and pepper on the meat and. Thoughts of taking a little swig of rum—only one, just a little sip—went through me as often as I breathed. But I held firm. I knew I would be going through that for a while. I knew the symptoms. The ache.I’ve been at this struggle many times. It was something I faced daily—more so on long gigs, which is why I tried not to take them: I won’t work drunk. Period. I wasn’t that bad, though. I would kill myself if it got to that point. I had an uncle who carried a curved flask in his sock daily.. More

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