My first meeting for VASAP (Alcohol class) started with an intake: seeing exactly how fucked up you are. Wanda, a portly Appalachian gem, handed me my survey to fill out. I sat down next to a pouty, cross-armed sorority girl, and a younger kid who looked scared out of his mind. I felt like we were in the principal's office. The survey was hilarious. Yes or No: "Do you think you are a normal drinker?" No, I am a superb drinker. It headlines my social resume. Obviously that's not what they were going for and I didn't want them to make me sit in the time-out chair at the meetings. "Yes."

"Have you ever lost consciousness or memory while drinking alcohol?" That's like asking a lifeguard if they've ever been sunburned. I filled in the "Yes" box nice and dark. From there the questions became directed more towards seeing if I am literally ruining my life with alcohol.

"Have you ever lost your job because of alcohol?"

"Have you ever lost a spouse or loved one because of alcohol?"

"Have you ever assaulted a spouse or loved one because of alcohol?"

Just as I was wondering what kind of sick freaks they're used to treating, a trophy 'neck stumbled out from the back into the lobby. I would have loved to look over this guy's survey, he probably just wrote, "Yes to all 'em" across the sheet. He'll have to wear a red T-shirt to the meetings, and they'll track his attendance electronically via ankle bracelet. Continuing down the questions, I got to number 20:

"When you drink alcohol do you hear voices?"

Sure I do. They say things like, "She looks thin" and "You're fine. Drive home." I turned to the kid next to me and tried to relieve the tension in the room. "Hey, did you put 'YES' for number 20?"

Kid: "No, did you?"

Me: "No." I turned my head back down towards my paper. "The voices told me not to."

The girl with crossed arms rolled her eyes at me and continued to pout. A while after I turned in my survey a guy came out of the back and called my name. He was about my age, and looked like a guy I'd hang out and drink with. I sat down and he proceeded to question me. How many nights a week do you drink? "One." That may have been a stretch. The rest were pretty unintrusive questions about my background. He asked me how many years I'd been in grad school. "Three." Although thinking back, it's actually been four. He looked up from his paper and said, "Man, you seem overqualified to.... Nevermind." I tried to coax the rest of the sentence out of him, but to no avail. What could I be overqualified for? Getting arrested and winding up on the other side of his desk? He told me that the class was one night a week, two hours long, for the next ten weeks.

"The two openings are Wednesday night and Thursday night, which would you like? I bet I can guess." He must have gone to our college in order to know that Thursday night is the best night to go out. "Yep, I'll take Wednesday." I signed a few forms so that they can disclose my case progress back to the prosecutor in Arizona, and have the breathalyzer installation guy wire up my Maxi (my car).

That about wrapped up my intake. I'm sure I'm going to have as much fun as one state can possibly mandate. The whole thing didn't seem so bad until about ten minutes ago, when I realized that I have to be here every Wednesday for the next ten weeks unless I am either hospitalized or kill off one of my immediate family members. What does this mean, you ask? Spring Break - Blacksburg. Taking out a hit would edge spring break just out of my price range. Looks like I'm going to be spending some quality time with that new railing.

If you need me, I'll be swinging from the shower rod.