He was HUGE, y’all!
As a part of my recovery, it is very important for me to share, what life was like before, what it’s like now, and what I am hoping for in the future. I am going to start with a little bit about what it was like. I’ve decided to keep it light, as my past few posts have been pretty heavy, keeping in mind that though the story might be funny, it’s a small piece of what brought me to my newfound sobriety. Here we go…
Once upon a time I had an idea…I know, not good. I decided, that after 2 1/2 years in AA and NA that I was cured of my alcoholism. Imagine that. I was cured y’all! I had graduated! I didn’t need no stinking recovery!!
My friend Amber had come back from montana to visit me, and we decided, that after 25 cups of coffee at Shari’s, in the middle of the night, I was going to move back to Missoula with her, and live with her at her aunt’s house. Now her aunt knew nothing about this, which made the whole idea stupid and selfish, and what made it worse was that we woke my mom up in the middle of the night to tell her this was going to happen. I was going to Montana.
You see my poor mother had already been worried about me, I had stopped going to meetings, I can’t even remember if I had a sponsor anymore and I was starting to hang out with all the wrong people again. Amber, who she hated…standing there in her bedroom that night as I made my big announcement was the icing on the cake. “Fine” she spat. “You are seventeen, you can do whatever the hell you want now, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. This is going to end badly”.
Mark my words…
My mother is never wrong y’all. Never.
So we set off to Montana that very night. We had drank plenty of coffee so we were wired for sound. Eventually I settled into Missoula, got a job serving the graveyard shift at a diner, still sober, but not going to any AA meetings at all…So I decided at this point a relationship was in order. Because…why not?
I met a girl named Layla. Dear. God. She rocked my world, all of it, the whole damn thing. She was in the Navy, she was beautiful, she liked all the same things I did and she made me feel safe.
The only problem was Layla had a drinking problem, and a cocaine problem, and eventually she had a hitting me in the face problem, which led her to get a ‘not having an awesome girlfriend anymore’ problem. And because Layla had hit me in the face, I decided, after dumping her…that I was going to find someone else and make her crazy jealous. A man, because I knew that would really piss her off. Us alcoholics can be pretty vengeful creatures. We have some shit we ain’t dealt with, so we deal with it by taking it out on other people. It isn’t an excuse…it just is what it is.
So who better to use than the cook I worked the graveyard shift with. Layla hated him, He was always hitting on me, and he had some sweet tattoos (which she knew I was a sucker for). He always made me french toast, and basically worshipped the ground I walked on…so I started dating this poor fellow. Eventually I relapsed in to drinking again with this guy, which eventually led me to
A) puking out the back of a Subaru in the mountains somewhere after one Keystone Ice ( sadly enough he asked me to marry him later that night). And
B) A trip to the hot springs where I was chased by a moose.
One night, in a Pabst Blue Ribbon induced epiphany, my poor schmuck of a boyfriend and I decided we would go to Lolo hot springs. So we gathered some camping supplies, more booze, Amber, Leyla’s 2 brother’s that I was still hanging out with (mostly because she hated it, and they had weed), and we took off in Amber’s van for the springs at the crack of 5pm the next day.
We were driving up to the springs, listening to Led Zeppelin, drinking, smoking, and generally having what I used to consider a pretty kick ass time. I was doing beer bottle between the boobs bending over the backseat drinking tricks. When eventually one of the boys had to pee. We stopped by a lake and stumbled out of the van. The boys went to pee, and then I saw him. The most giant moose I had ever seen in my life.
Me: Hey Guys! look! There’s a fuckin’ moose in the water, But DAMN he’s huge!
Brother #1: That’s good eatin’
Brother #2: How big do you think he is? I wonder if we could take him?
Me: God you montana people are weird as fuck.
So Brother # 1, being the mighty hunter that he was in his own mind, decided he was going to take this moose down by throwing rocks at it. He was pretty drunk, so he missed several times, but as the mentality of a moose goes, he was soon very agitated…
The moose began to snort and move in our direction. Luckily there was a substantial amount of lake and gravel between us and we were all able to run back to the van, get in and haul ass up a hill.
I’m Going to fucking kill you.
The moose was relentless, and the fact that Brother#1 was still bound and determined to take that moose down, by now throwing full beer cans (the travesty of it all!) out the back of the van. This only pissed the moose off even more. We could see by this time, the moose was not going to give up. So Brother #1 decided he was going to sacrifice himself for the good of the Clan of the Cave drunks and jump out of the side of the moving van so the moose would chase him in another direction. I don’t know what he thought he was accomplishing. We were in a giant van, I’m pretty sure the moose would have given up at some point.
Then again, I don’t know shit about anything so…there’s that.
He jumped out, The moose followed him, and two hours later he caught up with us at the hot springs. To this day we’re not sure how he got away…Brother #1 was drunk, he can’t even remember, and I have no earthly idea how he even found us when the moose was done chasing him.
The moral of the story is: Don’t throw beer cans or rocks at a moose in a lake by the Lolo hot springs. You will only waste beer and piss off a moose who might chase you for two hours and almost kill you…Oh, always listen to your mom. Unless she is drunk…then that’s not a good idea either.
I’m pretty sure I owe that moose an amends for being a part of that…