Viruses, Viral Stories, and Breakaway Sweats
After about a week of sitting in a circle of strangers, reading with them, listening to how they openly and honestly processed what was read, and hearing their stories, they seemed less and less like strangers to me. If judged by my first appearance, they’d likely have pegged me as a loser or lost soul. I arrived exhausted from not sleeping, and hadn’t shaved for a week, wearing my black, 1995 issue Adidas breakaway sweats. Back then, no one knew when a pickup game could break out, so it was best to be prepared. Let’s say I looked like I felt – and leave it at that.
My comfort level in sharing details about my life started at 0.00 in my first meeting. I was expecting Brad, the Worcester Telegram and Gazette reporter, to show up and publish anything I shared in the meeting in his articles about me. I sat where I could see the main door by which most people entered. I prepared myself that if he came in, I’d be ducking out the other way. At first, I was scared to say anything. Something happens, though, when you hear people’s tales. When they open up and let me and everyone else see the inside, it doesn’t feel oh so bad to do a little of the same.
I don’t think it took anyone long to figure out I was the guy on the news. Nor did it take me long to learn that I was with dozens of people who really didn’t care about that. So when I broke down at one meeting and did the poor me thing about losing my driver’s license, job, house, dignity, respect, and self-worth, it was not that big of a deal. I exalted that a less intelligent and far less attractive Maleficent, the villain from Sleeping Beauty, was dancing on my grave. Even with the creativity, no one batted an eye.
She looks better than the cartoon I watched in 1979
The end of the meetings – that’s when people come over and say things…only supportive things though. I wasn’t used to that. There is this one fella – took time after every meeting to come up to me and shake my hand. Always asks me how I’m doing – and within no time at all, I was telling him. He stands about 5’8” and has some years on me. He’s well spoken. He has blue eyes and brown hair, only glossed with hints of gray. He said, “Mike. Listen to me, because this is important. I was there. I was right where you are. And, it’s gonna be okay.”
In the late 1930s, viral was bad. Really bad – because there weren’t anti-viral drugs to speak of or prescribe. Viral in 1939 meant managing symptoms while human bodies sorted them out…or didn’t. In 2025, however, viral means lots of attention, sometimes leading to big bucks behavior changes in the millions upon millions scrolling through their feeds. In the sales world, viral isn’t all that bad.
In the 1940s, those who drank too much were hopeless. In many cases, medical doctors would not treat them, and those who had the drinking thing really bad were sent to places called sanitariums. Some walked in, never to leave. But word of mouth, which was how things got done back then, and an article in the Saturday Evening Post in 1941 was a candle that lit a fire that burns today at a level that astounds me. That’s the Saturday Evening Post, famous for Norman Rockwell’s iconic covers. The article was pretty long, but more people read publications like the post cover to cover back then. Less distractions, I guess.
Norman Rockwell did this one too
When the whole AA thing started, there were 100 guys. Now, there are individual AA meetings in Boston that have more than 100 attendees – and fortunately, it was early on that the boys let the girls in on the secret. Since alcohol doesn’t discriminate, should you ever happen to attend a meeting, you’ll see just how versatile a problem drinking is. The sheer number of people taking part in this thing initially confused me. I know there are literally 5,000 meetings per week in just New York City – so it makes sense that in my little town, there are several meetings each day. And seriously, two of them occur at the exact same time – in different locations…a walking distance from one another.
The non-drinking fire is burning hotter these days. Big brands are taking notice. Non-alcoholic beverages are booming. Stock prices are slipping. But none of that changes the simple truth: drinking still wrecks lives — and not drinking saves them. Drinking… It’s bad for you. Bad for the body, mind, and relationships – and in my case, bad for my career, and every other aspect of my life. When I say every…I mean, every.
Facts.
Thirty million copies of the Alcoholics Anonymous book have been sold. And that is a lot, considering anyone can get it for free. Among the multitude of places for this, there’s also an app. Then, those who don’t like to read can listen to it for free as well. The non-alcoholic beverage market is climbing pretty quickly…for those interested. It’s grown at a pace that makes it worthy of investment. If you are rich, pay attention. You can get even richer off the latest wellness trends. Magnesium mocktails, cold plunges, and infrared saunas. You name it.
But for me and countless others – especially those who’ve hit bottom — or come close — the real cure didn’t come from the Non-Alcoholic bottle or can. It came from people who were not afraid to whisper that they’ve been there, too, that we are not alone, and that overcoming this matter is more likely than not.
AA didn’t go viral because it was branded. It went viral because it was honest.
And maybe what people are craving — beyond better sleep and clearer skin — is a space to say, “I’m not okay.” The first people who got sober didn’t have a logo. They had stories.
They passed their stories along, and their stories still burn tens of thousands of times a day, now, all over the world. Man, am I glad I found one of them.