Chapter 1: An Embarrassing Night Out

Hello, I'm Jan. While I wouldn’t classify myself as an alcoholic, I do tend to become a bit of a nuisance when I've had too much to drink. I've had a couple of memorable incidents that I’d like to share.

The first incident took place in the early 1970s when I was just eighteen. My fiancé and I were thrilled to have tickets to see Jose Feliciano perform at a sophisticated nightclub in Sydney. I was a huge fan of his music, especially his rendition of “Light My Fire,” which I played repeatedly.

Both of us had just graduated high school and were working full-time jobs, saving our earnings for weeks to cover dinner, drinks, tickets, and a cab ride. The nightclub, located in the upscale Chevron hotel, felt intimidating to us. We were clueless about how to order drinks for our fancy seafood dinner.

After carefully examining the Drinks Menu, we ordered what we thought would be an appropriate amount of beverages, eager to blend in with the adults around us. The club was crowded and stifling, and when our cocktails, wine, Tia Maria, and port arrived, we dove right in.

By the time our food came an hour later, I was already quite intoxicated. The expensive oysters, lobster, crayfish, and desserts all blurred together as I savored the evening. Unfortunately, I have no recollection of Jose’s performance.

By the end of the night, I was feeling quite unwell. I remember my fiancé helping me into a cab while I drunkenly belted out "C'mon baby, light my fire" repeatedly. As we sped home, my stomach was churning, desperately trying to find relief.

Once we reached my parents’ house, my dad pulled me from the cab just as the seafood and drinks made their escape. He carried me inside, while my fiancé took a hasty exit, probably for the best given my state.

Fast forward thirty years, and I found myself in a new marriage with two grown children. One evening, my husband went to work and I was in a cheerful mood. I decided to unwind with some favorite CDs and a glass of bourbon and coke. One drink led to another, and soon I was singing and dancing around the house, feeling euphoric.

However, after my seventh drink, my mood shifted unexpectedly. I suddenly craved opera, specifically a dramatic aria. My grandmother had introduced me to Madame Butterfly, and whenever I felt down, I would belt out Butterfly’s dying aria at full volume. My husband, unaware of my unique coping mechanism, returned home to find me belting out an off-key rendition of the aria.

The expression on his face was priceless, and that’s the crux of the issue. I used to drink only a few times a year, but it rarely ended well. Nowadays, I stick to water or diet Coke to avoid losing my inhibitions and dignity.

My husband often quips that I’m a “cheap date.” It's true—just a sniff of alcohol and I’m merry; two drinks and I’m dizzy; five, and I'm dancing; and seven, I’m singing Puccini like there’s no tomorrow. That’s the kind of drunken behavior that’s tough to tolerate, even for myself.

Chapter 2: Reflecting on My Choices

In this video titled "I've been Sober for 100 Days! | My Experience Quitting Alcohol," the speaker shares their personal journey of sobriety, discussing the challenges faced and the lessons learned along the way.