Dry

With barely any sleep, Burroughs wakes at 6:00am, still drunk, and grooms himself as best he can. He meets his client and his art director, Greer, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. His relationship with Greer has been tense lately because of his drinking. While examining a Faberge egg, Greer informs him that his body reeks of alcohol, that it’s “coming out of your pores” (11). Greer covers for him, they have a lunch meeting, and the day passes without incident. At home that evening, Burroughs polishes off a bottle of scotch and falls into bed.

He wakes the next morning at noon, hours late for an important meeting. By the time he arrives at work, the meeting is ending. A furious Greer pulls him into his office, berating him for jeopardizing not only his career but also hers. They argue, Burroughs growing defensive and irritated, looking for any rationale to justify his drinking: “[T]his is Manhattan, and everybody drinks” (16). Greer storms out, the argument unresolved, which makes Burroughs want to drink.

That night, reviewing some of his old ad campaigns, Burroughs acknowledges his talent—he’s good at writing ad copy, so how bad can the drinking really be? Reaching for a bottle of scotch, he falls and cuts his head. Despite the blood, he continues drinking until he achieves that “soft feeling.”

The next morning, Burroughs is summoned to his boss Elenor’s office. She, along with Greer and an HR representative, confront him about his drinking. They suggest rehab. He briefly considers quitting, but that’s not a viable option, so he agrees. He opts for the Proud Institute, a gay-operated treatment center in Minnesota. With a month off of work and a week to make arrangements, he contemplates all the drinking he can do “without that awful, annoying concern about how much I will stink in the morning” (23). His elation comes crashing down, however, when he realizes that, at the end of this binge, he “may actually have to go to rehab” (24).

That evening, he calls his friend Pighead, an investment banker, who applauds his decision. Drinking, he tells Burroughs, makes him “’foul, dark, and ugly’” (24). They are close despite their sometimes contentious differences. Pighead has HIV but has been symptom-free for six years. When he asks Burroughs what he’s doing to prepare for rehab, he responds, “drink.”

Over drinks with Jim, Burroughs feels more optimistic about rehab: “I’ll dry out for thirty days, and it’ll be like going to a spa. When I come home, I’ll be able to drink more like a normal person drinks” (27). Jim mentions Pighead and calls him a “wuss” and “un-fun.” Burroughs, who rarely commingles with different friends, agrees, although he feels guilty about it.

At home, he makes an appointment with the Proud Institute, and his enthusiasm wanes. As he contemplates the possible causes of his drinking—his father’s alcoholism, television—he has a sudden realization of his profound loneliness. He calls his father to tell him about rehab, and it quickly escalates into Burroughs recalling every traumatic incident from his childhood, incidents his father denies. He wakes up the next morning on the bathroom floor.

Burroughs lands in Minnesota and takes a cab to the rehab center. The reality of the Proud Institute—an industrial office building in a drab industrial park—does not match his fantasy of a well-appointed compound surrounded by lush foliage, hiking trails, and a koi pond. While waiting to check in, he gets cold feet and considers walking out. Just then, he is greeted by Peggy, who leads him to the intake area. Another nurse completes the process—he fills out paperwork while his bags are inspected for smuggled alcohol. After completing the intake, he is escorted to a “detox” room where he will spend the next 72 hours before being moved to a more permanent space.

After he gets settled, a nurse takes his blood pressure, which is “very high.” She gives him Librium to avert the shock of alcohol withdrawal. After the rest of the patients emerge from a group therapy meeting, he meets Kavi, a flight attendant with a “sex addiction” who agrees to show Burroughs the ropes. As Burroughs meets other patients, his discomfort grows—their uniformly pleasant demeanors remind him of a singular hive mind, of zombies. The overly zealous patients, the industrial furniture, and the bad food convince him to give the Proud Institute one day, no more.

After lunch, in group therapy, Burroughs has a flashback of being sexually abused at 13 by a 33-year-old “friend” of his parents, the adopted son of his mother’s psychiatrist with whom he lived. When asked to share his feelings, he confesses, “I feel like I want to leave. Like this was a big mistake.” Several patients admit to feeling the same. One man bursts into tears, declaring, “I should be dead” (51). He relates a story of driving drunk with his parents in the car and having an accident that left his mother physically disabled. Burroughs sees in his eyes a familiar “emptiness.”

As the group goes over the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, Burroughs becomes increasingly depressed, feeling condescendingly distant from the other patients (“hardcore alcoholics,” unlike him). After the session, another patient reassures him, “It really does get better” (56).

The next part of his structured therapy is to list his history of substance use. It starts with NyQuil at age seven and escalates to the present: “A liter of Dewar’s a night, often chased with cocktails. Cocaine once a month” (57). Seeing his usage quantified like this makes him ashamed. Tracy the therapist tells him he was dangerously close to alcohol poisoning. Burroughs also confesses that, since he’s allergic to alcohol, he consumes copious amounts of Benadryl before drinking. For the first time, he begins to understand he has a problem.

At dinner, he sits with Brian, a psychiatrist with a Valium addiction. He is drawn to Brian, seeing him as an intelligent, kindred spirit. Despite Brian’s assurances that Burroughs will eventually “get it,” he still has doubts. After dinner is group “Affirmations” and “Gratitude,” all of which rankles Burroughs’s cynical sensibility. The meeting ends with the Serenity Prayer. In his room that night, Burroughs imagines himself in a bar in New York, “working on my seventh martini” (65).