r.kv.r.y. quarterly shorts on substances
a ride home by anon
a ride home by anon
The yellow station wagon taxicab sat alone under a cypress tree at the Hilton Head
Island Airport waiting, hopefully, for its last fare of the day. It was about 7:30 on a
misty evening in the spring of 1984 and the cool South Carolina breeze through
Tom D.’s open window felt good after a 12-hour day in the cab. Tom had already
made several trips to and from the airport.
Tom had moved to Hilton Head Island from Pittsburgh several years earlier. The
truth was he had never intended to make Hilton Head his home but was merely
passing through on his way to Florida, where he hoped to make Pittsburgh’s
weather a distant memory.
Memory had been Tom’s specialty at the University of Pittsburgh where he had
been teaching courses in memory development for nine years. When Tom stopped
at Hilton Head on his journey south, he fell in love with the Lowcountry with its
wide live oaks and mysterious marshes. He went to an Alcoholics Anonymous
meeting that evening and settled in.
While Tom sat in his cab drifting off with his own memories and looking forward to
the end of a long day, Dr. Harry H. was collecting his luggage after his flight to
Hilton Head Island. Harry was originally from Vermont, ironically the state where
both of AA’s founders, Bill W. and Dr. Bob, were born.
Harry was a general practitioner in a small town and unlike Tom, he was not
looking forward to a quiet evening and the end of the day. To the contrary, Harry
was eagerly anticipating a drink, several in fact, and ideally a night of revelry to kick
off a week of partying. Here ostensibly for a medical conference on Hilton Head,
Harry had other things on his mind. As he walked outside with his luggage and
headed for the yellow cab he spotted across the road, Harry had no idea that the
cab ride he was about to take would change, and perhaps save, his life.
As he opened the door to the cab, Harry greeted Tom and asked if he could take
him to his hotel on the Island. “I’ll have you there before you know it,” said Tom.
Harry gave him the name of the hotel in the middle of the Island but added “I’d
just like to leave my bags and if you wouldn’t mind, I need a lift from there to
Callahan’s.”
Tom said sure. He knew Callahan’s Sports Bar & Grill well, having dropped many a
fare at the bar over the years and helped carry a few to his waiting cab at closing
time. But Tom had never spent more time than that in Callahan’s. 23 years sober
and an active member of AA, Tom didn’t drink or hang around places where people
did.
Tom started the cab and headed off. Tom talked with anyone and everyone easily
and had a knack of putting those he met instantly at ease. Harry felt the same
comfort in the cab and laughingly shared his plans to truly enjoy this week and
spend only the minimum amount of time required at the convention and most of
his time in the bars. Harry had been traveling to Hilton Head for years, and Tom
could tell that he knew the local haunts well.
It was also easy for Tom to tell that his new friend was no stranger to hard
drinking and when Harry shared with Tom that he had even tried AA sporadically
over the past 10 years ago, Tom began to think of alternative plans for Harry’s
week.
True to plan, Tom drove into the driveway of Harry’s hotel 15 minutes later and
Harry jumped out, asking again that Tom wait. “I’ll only be a minute,” said Harry,
“then Hilton Head, here I come.” It was more than a minute but not by much and
Harry was back and ready to go.
But soon into the last leg of the drive, Harry felt that they were heading in the
wrong direction, and when Tom took a left off Highway 278 onto Mathews Drive,
he knew it. “Hey,” stammered Harry, “you’re headed the wrong way. Callahan’s is
down on the south end.” And indeed it was, but Tom remained calm. “I’ve got a
better place in mind for you. Take it easy,” Tom assured Harry. Harry, believing
that Tom’s local expertise would lead him to the bar of his dreams, relaxed.
But Harry again grew suspicious as Tom turned into a dark driveway that led to a
short two-story strip mall. The lights were out except in a few windows on the
second floor with a dimly lit sign in one that read “Y.A.N.A.” “Are you sure this is
the right spot,” a confused Harry asked.
“This is it,” said Tom. “I assure you that this is the right place for you tonight.”
Tom parked and got out of the cab and started up a flight of stairs. Harry
hesitated but followed.
When they entered a large single room, Harry knew right away that this wasn’t a
nightclub. When he looked at the wall and saw a banner displaying the 12 Steps of
Alcoholics Anonymous, he knew just where he was and thought of turning and
fleeing but before he could do so, several warm voices greeted him and someone
pulled up a chair for him. Once he saw that Harry was settled, Tom quietly wished
him well and left before he could protest.
For the next hour Harry sat through his first AA meeting in years. Later he would
learn that “Y.A.N.A.” stood for “You are not alone,” and for the first time in a long
while, Harry wasn’t.
Harry doesn’t remember much from that meeting, but recalls that he heard
enough to convince him to pick up a white chip at the end, the Lowcountry’s way
of inviting a new member to try a new way of life. And enough was conveyed to
Harry at that meeting to convince him to come back the next night and the next
and before he knew it, the week was over. Harry had not had a drink, had
attended all the sessions at his medical conference and left the Island sober,
unfortunately not in Tom’s cab, but on his way to a
new life all the same.
Tom and Harry were not in touch for quite awhile but when years later Tom met
Harry’s son, Arum, who coincidentally lived on Hilton Head Island, he learned that,
despite some tough challenges along the way, Tom’s decision to bring Harry to his
club that spring evening in 1984 had been a turning point in Harry’s life. Not only
was he sober but he was now the Medical Director of a well known recovery center
in California where he was, like Tom, helping others find a new way of life and
staying sober himself in the process. Tom and Harry have since had the
opportunity to meet again during a few of Harry’s visits to Hilton Head. Tom
continued driving his cab for several more years before he retired. Harry, it turns
out, was not the first or the last “fare” to be diverted from his original Hilton Head
plans and Tom still gets calls today from parents, spouses and recovering people
all over the country thanking him for his rerouting.
Tom is 54 years sober today and like Harry, is all about helping another alcoholic in
need. When one sits back and ponders these lives, it’s not hard to imagine that
literally thousands of people are alive and well today because of the efforts of
these two men and a single inspired cab ride.
Island Airport waiting, hopefully, for its last fare of the day. It was about 7:30 on a
misty evening in the spring of 1984 and the cool South Carolina breeze through
Tom D.’s open window felt good after a 12-hour day in the cab. Tom had already
made several trips to and from the airport.
Tom had moved to Hilton Head Island from Pittsburgh several years earlier. The
truth was he had never intended to make Hilton Head his home but was merely
passing through on his way to Florida, where he hoped to make Pittsburgh’s
weather a distant memory.
Memory had been Tom’s specialty at the University of Pittsburgh where he had
been teaching courses in memory development for nine years. When Tom stopped
at Hilton Head on his journey south, he fell in love with the Lowcountry with its
wide live oaks and mysterious marshes. He went to an Alcoholics Anonymous
meeting that evening and settled in.
While Tom sat in his cab drifting off with his own memories and looking forward to
the end of a long day, Dr. Harry H. was collecting his luggage after his flight to
Hilton Head Island. Harry was originally from Vermont, ironically the state where
both of AA’s founders, Bill W. and Dr. Bob, were born.
Harry was a general practitioner in a small town and unlike Tom, he was not
looking forward to a quiet evening and the end of the day. To the contrary, Harry
was eagerly anticipating a drink, several in fact, and ideally a night of revelry to kick
off a week of partying. Here ostensibly for a medical conference on Hilton Head,
Harry had other things on his mind. As he walked outside with his luggage and
headed for the yellow cab he spotted across the road, Harry had no idea that the
cab ride he was about to take would change, and perhaps save, his life.
As he opened the door to the cab, Harry greeted Tom and asked if he could take
him to his hotel on the Island. “I’ll have you there before you know it,” said Tom.
Harry gave him the name of the hotel in the middle of the Island but added “I’d
just like to leave my bags and if you wouldn’t mind, I need a lift from there to
Callahan’s.”
Tom said sure. He knew Callahan’s Sports Bar & Grill well, having dropped many a
fare at the bar over the years and helped carry a few to his waiting cab at closing
time. But Tom had never spent more time than that in Callahan’s. 23 years sober
and an active member of AA, Tom didn’t drink or hang around places where people
did.
Tom started the cab and headed off. Tom talked with anyone and everyone easily
and had a knack of putting those he met instantly at ease. Harry felt the same
comfort in the cab and laughingly shared his plans to truly enjoy this week and
spend only the minimum amount of time required at the convention and most of
his time in the bars. Harry had been traveling to Hilton Head for years, and Tom
could tell that he knew the local haunts well.
It was also easy for Tom to tell that his new friend was no stranger to hard
drinking and when Harry shared with Tom that he had even tried AA sporadically
over the past 10 years ago, Tom began to think of alternative plans for Harry’s
week.
True to plan, Tom drove into the driveway of Harry’s hotel 15 minutes later and
Harry jumped out, asking again that Tom wait. “I’ll only be a minute,” said Harry,
“then Hilton Head, here I come.” It was more than a minute but not by much and
Harry was back and ready to go.
But soon into the last leg of the drive, Harry felt that they were heading in the
wrong direction, and when Tom took a left off Highway 278 onto Mathews Drive,
he knew it. “Hey,” stammered Harry, “you’re headed the wrong way. Callahan’s is
down on the south end.” And indeed it was, but Tom remained calm. “I’ve got a
better place in mind for you. Take it easy,” Tom assured Harry. Harry, believing
that Tom’s local expertise would lead him to the bar of his dreams, relaxed.
But Harry again grew suspicious as Tom turned into a dark driveway that led to a
short two-story strip mall. The lights were out except in a few windows on the
second floor with a dimly lit sign in one that read “Y.A.N.A.” “Are you sure this is
the right spot,” a confused Harry asked.
“This is it,” said Tom. “I assure you that this is the right place for you tonight.”
Tom parked and got out of the cab and started up a flight of stairs. Harry
hesitated but followed.
When they entered a large single room, Harry knew right away that this wasn’t a
nightclub. When he looked at the wall and saw a banner displaying the 12 Steps of
Alcoholics Anonymous, he knew just where he was and thought of turning and
fleeing but before he could do so, several warm voices greeted him and someone
pulled up a chair for him. Once he saw that Harry was settled, Tom quietly wished
him well and left before he could protest.
For the next hour Harry sat through his first AA meeting in years. Later he would
learn that “Y.A.N.A.” stood for “You are not alone,” and for the first time in a long
while, Harry wasn’t.
Harry doesn’t remember much from that meeting, but recalls that he heard
enough to convince him to pick up a white chip at the end, the Lowcountry’s way
of inviting a new member to try a new way of life. And enough was conveyed to
Harry at that meeting to convince him to come back the next night and the next
and before he knew it, the week was over. Harry had not had a drink, had
attended all the sessions at his medical conference and left the Island sober,
unfortunately not in Tom’s cab, but on his way to a
new life all the same.
Tom and Harry were not in touch for quite awhile but when years later Tom met
Harry’s son, Arum, who coincidentally lived on Hilton Head Island, he learned that,
despite some tough challenges along the way, Tom’s decision to bring Harry to his
club that spring evening in 1984 had been a turning point in Harry’s life. Not only
was he sober but he was now the Medical Director of a well known recovery center
in California where he was, like Tom, helping others find a new way of life and
staying sober himself in the process. Tom and Harry have since had the
opportunity to meet again during a few of Harry’s visits to Hilton Head. Tom
continued driving his cab for several more years before he retired. Harry, it turns
out, was not the first or the last “fare” to be diverted from his original Hilton Head
plans and Tom still gets calls today from parents, spouses and recovering people
all over the country thanking him for his rerouting.
Tom is 54 years sober today and like Harry, is all about helping another alcoholic in
need. When one sits back and ponders these lives, it’s not hard to imagine that
literally thousands of people are alive and well today because of the efforts of
these two men and a single inspired cab ride.