Am I The Only One Who Thinks Like This?

Dry by Augusten Burroughs

It's Tuesday evening and I'm home. I've been home for twenty minutse and am going through the mail. When I open a bill, it freaks me out. For some reason, I have trouble writing checks. I postpone this act until the last possible moment, usually once my account has gone into collection. It's not like I can't afford the bills- I can - It's just that I panic when faced with responsibility. I am not used to rules and structure and so I have a hard time keeping my phone connected and the electricity turned on.




I start adding my hotel room, tax and meals for each day. Then I see the minibar charge. The total is sixteen hundred dollars. "How is this possible?"
"What?" Greer says, turning to me.
"What the ----?"
"Augusten, what is it? What's the matter with you?"
"My minibar charges. Look," I hand her the bill.
"These aren't your charges?" She says, looking over the bill.
"Of course not. No. I only took a bottle of ----ing water."
She stops chewing her gum. "You did read the little notice on the mini bar, didn't you?"
"What little notice?" I say
Greer, ever the A student, recites the notice from memory. "For your convenience, you will be automatically billed for each item removed from your minibar."
"But all I drank was water!"
"Okay. But did you take things out and put them back?"
"They bill you for that?" I say, horrified.
"Of course. All the good European hotels do it now."
We weren't in ----ing Europe. I don't say anything.
"What did you do? Take all the liquor bottles out every day and put them back?" She laughs, like this is not something within the realm of actual possibility.
Unfortunately, it is. Because that's exactly what I did. I fondled all the bottles, constantly. Sixteen hundred dollars worth of fonlding. That's like hiring a prostitute every night for a week. And not even having a drink to break the ice.
Back in my apartment, I phone to hotel and explain the unfortunate situation.
"I'm sorry," They tell me.
"And...?" I say.
"And that's why we put the notice on the minibar door." The customer representative tells me with great smugness.
That's it. I lose it. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. For the rest of my life, there will always be a bar tab.