Kicked back with his boots on the table at the head of the smoke-dense room, the meeting's leader banged his fist and bellowed, "By the grace of this program and the blood of Jesus Christ, I'm sober today!"

I blinked.

This was not an auspicious beginning for the project of getting my vaguely atheistic, very alcoholic self off the sauce.

I wondered if perhaps I'd wandered into the wrong room. I thought maybe I'd wound up in Alcoholics Anonymous for crown-of-thorn Christians, and in the next room might find AA for lapsed Catholics, and downstairs a group for AA Hare Krishnas and one for AA Ukrainian Jews.