What better way for a recovering alkie to test-drive his brittle, waferlike willpower than by testing its mettle against the seedy might of the Las Vegas Strip?
Since quitting drinking, I've lost more than 42 pounds in booze weight; I've rebuilt most of the friendships I destroyed while during the troughs of my alcoholic selfishness; I've just finished writing a book. I'm doing ok. What better time, then, to return to Vegas and spend an entire month on the Strip, surrounded by all the things I've worked so hard to escape from?
Lesson: Sobriety is responsible, but boring.