I am terrified of heights. Not because I feel that the building I’m atop will all of a sudden come crashing down or that a gust of wind might swoop me away. I am terrified of heights because I know that I am very capable of just jumping off. It scares the shit out of me.
A few years ago, I hit what I hope was my rock bottom. I had lost everything that was important to me at the time and, as a result, started drinking every single day. Occasionally I would wake up strapped to hospital beds with broken noses, gashes in my head and black eyes. I depleted all of my savings. I couldn’t afford to pay my rent and ended up living in the bowels of a sailboat. In that rocking hell, I would wake up at 2 p.m., many times covered in blood and/or vomit.
I hated my life. I hated myself, and I hated everyone around me. Whenever I passed someone with a smile on their face, I just wanted to knock it off them.
One late afternoon, I woke up from my drunken stupor and grabbed what I thought was a bottle of water and took a swig, just to find out that it was actually piss. Apparently, I had woke up and pissed in my water bottle. At that moment, I decided to end my life. I took a shower, wrote a note, and grabbed my straight razor from the drawer. I laid on the bed for a long time, but then something happened. I thought about how much I like ice cream. I thought about how I would never know how Game of Thrones ends. I thought about how much I fucking love my mom.
Later that day I ended up going to Alcoholics Anonymous and started going routinely thereafter. I would like to say that it was an easy road from there to where I am now, happier than not, more sober than drunk, more kind than twisted, but it wasn’t. I am still on the road to my own salvation, but I walk it with a smile.
The Black Velvet cocktail was supposedly created at the Brook’s Club in London, and was made to mourn the death of Prince Albert. I have heard that the cocktail is supposed to symbolize the black arm bands worn by mourners at a funeral. It is the cocktail equivalent of flying a flag at half-mast.
I went to The Ould Sod (3373 Adams Ave.) to order one after I heard about the death of Mr. Anthony Bourdain. To those of us who live and breathe within this industry, he was royalty. I know not all suicides are a result of substance abuse, and I know that the closest I’ve come directly was a result of substance abuse. I ordered The Black Velvet because it seems like the appropriate thing to order at the time and whether or not I drink it is a whole different story. Either way, for those of you reading this right now, please keep one thing in mind: Life is really, really, really fucking hard, but so are diamonds.
The Black Velvet
as prepared at The Ould Sod
6 oz. Champagne or sparkling wine
10 oz. Guinness
Pour 6 oz. of champagne into apint glass, pour over the Guinness.Reflect, enjoy, mourn, cry, smile, live.