Post-victorious Peyton Manning said he couldn’t wait to drink a Bud Light after their playoff victory against the Chargers.
Sounds good. One beer. Ice cold. Take the edge off. Reward for a job well done.
I could relate. I’d love a Bud Light too.
Until I actually consume it. And at that point, all similarity to Peyton Manning ends (well, that and his pass progressions, athleticism, and natural talent; although I can rock a suit like Mr. Manning).
Oh what I would give to experience that cool, fizzy liquid over my tongue.
Well for starters, I would likely sacrifice my freedom. Freedom from control and consequently freedom of movement as I will likely end up incarcerated.
You see, I don’t drink like “normal” people anymore. When I take a drink, the drink takes me.
According to the American Medical Association (and the Supreme Court) I have a disease of the same classification as cancer and diabetes. Chronic. Progressive. Fatal.
And apparently, I’m not alone.
So that refreshing, cool, perspiring can of Bud Light is not for me.
Am I feeling sorry for myself? No…because as I was running my laundry downstairs today I saw a half-smoked cigarette butt on the floor and was magically possessed with an almost uncontrollable urge to pick it up and smoke it.
I haven’t smoked in nearly 4 years after a 30 year habit, but have gained enough self-knowledge over the last decade to know that smoking that butt would lead me back to a pack and a half a day within about a week.
My brain works like that.
So for me, abstinence is the answer. Not because I want to, lord knows. But because I have to.
I have a disease that is fatal. And it often disguises itself as that seductive can of Bud Light.
I choose life.
And enjoy that beer Peyton…you’re not like me and you richly deserve it.