I am my best ally and my own worst enemy.
I elevated myself to levels of euphoria and visited the depths of the abyss.
From the year 1974 to 1987, if given any two choices, I would indubitably choose the option that was the worse for me.
Consistently.
Knowingly.
When I entered the higher echelons of the fine dining industry, I was already a raging, no “off” switch alcoholic. And I am sure the hundreds of LSD trips and jars of Quaaludes were good for me.
We won’t even start about weed…
I have finally reached the point where I might consider stopping smoking weed. I never thought I would entertain the notion, but my wife’s sister is having heart issues and she smokes a pack a day with no intentions whatsoever of quitting anytime soon.
It’s really troubling my wife, and for me, I think the solution is as simple as switching to smoking pot instead of cigarettes.
Evidently, it’s not that easy.
I never got that with cigarettes. At least weed gives you a nice buzz and feeling of euphoria.
And it won’t kill you.
If you have been through any heart surgeries lately, you will be asked from check-in if you are a smoker.
Since I didn’t see any reason to lie about it, and I didn’t want to jeopardize my surgery, I would tell them “I am a lifelong pot smoker for 56 years.”
They ignored that.
“Cigarettes. Do you smoke cigarettes?”
They could give a shit if I smoked pot.
I think the reason I resent cigarettes so much is because I grew up in a house with two chain-smokers, replete with the swimming pool-sized ashtray on the living room table and the perpetual smell of cigarette smoke in the house.
Also, if you have spent any time whatsoever as a performing musician, you have inhaled tons of cigarette smoke.
Both my brother and sister would also take up the habit, but I never did.
The alcohol started early. As early as early childhood, it was “funny” to my aunts and uncles to slip me drinks of their whatever at parties.
Several of the women were expecting.
You could cut the smoke with scissors it was so thick.
For the most part, I always stayed in good enough shape to participate in sports, but really hit it hard when I was in my early high school freshman year in England. Fourteen years old and we could get served in any pub in England.
Our sports teams competed against many teams in Europe because there were only three American high schools. We got to fly to France, Germany, Spain, Italy, basically any country with an American base.
We were like rock stars, missing out on school days for games on foreign soil. There was one, I repeat, ONE, player on the entire football team that didn’t drink himself silly on our road trips.
He wasn’t very popular, as I recall.
When I was a starred French chef, I kept a fifty-gallon stockpot of melted unsalted butter on the stove all day long, which is the lifeblood of a French kitchen.
Back then, I bet if I cut myself, that’s what my blood would look like.
Like I said, I KNOW why me?
Stay well.
