Number eight reminds me of one of those too close for comfort occasions, when about a year and a half without a drink, working out of town much more than a program, with little contact with anyone, I found myself at the end of a very long, and rather hectic day, both mentally and physically exhausted.
Even though my mind was preoccupied with work, and other personal and political issues, I was hungry and decided to go into the lounge of a restaurant that I'd frequented before under different circumstances.
While unconsciously glancing at the dinner menu, I can remember the server asking me what I wanted to drink. Without ever missing a beat, the phrase that had been said to bartenders for a very long time, almost came out. It didn't wake me from my stupor until that point, when I almost ordered one without even thinking about it.
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