I booked a flight to go to a reunion in June. Everyone just voted to have it at a brewery. And at one of my favorite breweries.

I am sort of excited to test my willpower but also worried I will fail. I will be four and half months sober by then. It will be nice to be able to handle being around alcohol one day. I just have to keep remembering that I CAN NOT DRINK! Not even one. No matter how tempting a glass of beer might be, some IPA could lead to DUI or STD or DEATH (eventually.)

And I really, really want a huge treat for one year sober. Since it will be next January,  I was starting to think of rewarding myself with a trip to Iceland to see the Northern Lights.

My brain has been having those inner battles again:

“Just one won’t hurt.”… “Who are you kidding? You won’t stop at one.”

“I can drink and not get drunk.”… “Really? You think you believe that? Why drink if that fuzzy buzz wasn’t the goal?”

“I can drink responsibly.”… “Well your arrest record would disagree with that.”

I know a lot of sober bloggers will refer to that bitch voice as Wolfie. I joined the 100 Day Challenge but have not actually read the story or meaning to Wolfie. I hope whoever that voice is, she is not joining me on my trip in June. Can I report her to TSA to keep her off the plane?

I took this photo for SoberLearning’s 120 days but did not get around to posting it. So here is a treat for you:

Mistake # 71- I went to Tijuana, Mexico with a few friends. I was living in San Diego. I was 18 years old. Got drunk on tequila and Sex on the Beach. I met a guy who went to school with my friends. He was cute. We started making out.

The rest I was told next day: the guy and I were getting hot and heavy in the bar. I don’t remember. Cops came in and took us out. They said they were going to arrest us for indecent behaviour. I started crying and begging them not to arrest us. The guy gave the cop his watch. The cop said we were free to go but had to leave Mexico right away. The guy and I left and walked to the border. Our friends found us at the bus stop on the American side waiting for them. I was passed out on the bench. They had to drag me on the bus.

Waking up the next day in my bed with a hangover was better than waking up in Mexican jail.