I was still a mess. I had just turned 23, it was Saturday night, I was almost 2 months sober, and my friends all wanted to take me to a bar. I’d been out of the house since 8 that morning, and I was supposed to meet them at Independent to “celebrate.” Instead, I drove to Carter’s house, dropped off my car and caught a ride with him. I made the mistake of saying I would be the designated driver that night. Big big mistake.
By the time 11 rolled around, …