I had dinner with my sponsor at his place last night, and afterwards he pulled out a little blue box and was like, “Lozenge? They’re spicy.” I was like, “Sure,” took (what I assumed was) a mint and popped it in my mouth, enjoying the immediate, pleasant tingle associated with fresh breath.
So we were chatting away about not drinking or whatever, and I was absentmindedly crunching on the mint while we did so, and after awhile the tingle intensified from “hint of clove” to “hint of chemical burn.”
“Wow,” I said. “You were right. This is… really spicy.”
“Just tuck it up in your cheek and let it dissolve,” he said. “But as I was…. wait. Did you chew it?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Was I not supposed to?”
The look of horror on his face suggested that no, I was in fact not supposed to chew it.
“What are these?” I asked, grabbing the box and reading the label. “Seriously? You dosed me with Nicorette?”
“How did you not know it was Nicorette? I told you it was a lozenge.”
“I thought it was a pastille,” I yelled. “I thought you were being fancy. Okay, my mouth is legitimately on fire.”
“You need water.”
I reached for the fridge.
“Not cold water. Cold water will make it worse.”
So I grabbed water out of his pantry instead, and when I turned around he was right behind me with a glass, because even if one’s gums are spontaneously combusting, chugging straight from a bottle is unforgivably gauche.
Anyway, the moral of the story is this: If you think you have a problem with alcohol, you should definitely get into recovery, because sometimes your sponsor will accidentally give you drugs.
Keep coming back.