Beyond Addiction

This morning, the relentlessly expanding universe of technology delivered this remarkable exchange between two men on two airplanes heading in opposite directions 6 miles above the ground. Here is how it unfolded.

"Mr. Moyers, my name is Dan. I am an alcoholic who needs your help right now. I'm flying from Newark to LAX in first class. The guy next to me is drunk on vodka tonics. I'm counting them as he's drinking them. Now I want to stop counting and start drinking. Been on the wagon for 55 days. This is my first trip since I stopped. I want to drink, right now! Help me."

His message arrived while I was catching up on emails on a flight to Jacksonville, Fla. I loathe email. But the Wi-Fi option on airplanes is my uninterrupted opportunity to clean out my inbox. Except that now I was "talking" in real time to a man in real duress.

"Hello, Dan, thanks for reaching out. Funny coincidence, but I'm airborne, too. And the woman next to me is drinking wine. It is hers. Not mine. I choose not to pick up her glass. It is not an option. Tell yourself, 'His vodka tonic is not my option right now.' Go ahead; say it to yourself."

Two minutes pass. He writes: "OK, I did it. 'Vodka tonic isn't my option.' I still want to drink!"

Quickly, I fire back: "There's nothing wrong with an urge to drink. It happens to all of us from time to time, early in sobriety and sometimes decades later. Don't deny the desire; it is real. But the desire is not the drink. Don't act on the desire and you won't drink."

Another few minutes unfold. I hold my breath.

"He's having another one now," Dan writes. "The smell is overwhelming. I see myself in the bar."

I peck away on the keys as fast as my thoughts come. "OK, see yourself in the bar. Now think through that scene. What happened afterward? You got drunk. I bet you were filled with despair and torment, hung-over and feeling awful inside and out. Yes?"

Dan fires back: "Yes, yes. My last drink was at the bar, last month in New York City. A night out with a bunch of friends, drunk by 10 and still reeking of booze at dawn the next morning.

I ask for more. "How's it been since?"

Dan answers: "Life's so much better. Not easy but easier to live with myself. I almost threw it all way. My wife, we've been married 10 years, she's stuck it out with me. My baby girl is a joy. I'm around for her. Kept my job. Got back my sanity, my dignity. I still miss drinking. I don't miss what it did to me."

I reply: "There you go. You've thought through the buzz to where you are now. So important for us to put the craving in the context of the toll it took to satisfy it and where we are today."

Dan doesn't answer. I fear that I've lost him and now he's drinking buddies with the passenger next to him. Or maybe the Wi-Fi connection has been disrupted and he thinks I've given up on him and has figured, "Why not have just one old favorite before the pilot announces the final descent into Los Angeles?" Desperate frustration fills in the space between two planes hurtling away from each other at 500 miles per hour. It's been 10 minutes.

There he is again, in my inbox!

"Hey, I'm back. Sorry. I moved seats with a guy across the aisle. I figured, 'Why risk it?' I don't have to tolerate his drinking. I'm going to be OK. Thanks for your help."

I laugh to myself but loudly enough for the wine-drinking woman next to me to notice. She seems irritated. I'd love to tell her the story, only she won't get it. She's on her third glass of Delta's finest chardonnay.

"You're welcome, Dan. And thanks. You've helped me, too. Safe journey."

I answer emails in the air, but I haven't been much for creative writing on airplanes, until this moment. And maybe what I've just written here isn't all that creative. But it sure as heck is practical for two alcoholics who need to stay grounded when they're high in the sky.

William Moyers is the vice president of public affairs and community relations for the Hazelden Foundation and the author of "Broken," his best-selling memoirs. His new book, "Now What? An Insider's Guide to Addiction and Recovery," has just been published. Please send your questions to William Moyers at wmoyers@hazelden.org. To find out more about William Moyers and read his past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

COPYRIGHT 2013 CREATORS.COM