I was in a really dark place when I encountered a cult that changed my life forever.

For the better, I was 23 years old. It was a Saturday evening, and I was already drunk as my friend

Ricardo drove us to what I thought was a church barbecue. We were on the outskirts of town and

it just turned down a dirt road. Back in those days, I couldn't do anything sober. I was struggling,

and Ricardo had heard that this place could possibly help me. Of course, I'd been sober when I

agreed to attend the barbecue, but sober was a long way off as we pulled up to a place where a bunch

of cars were parked in a field of wild grass next to a couple of long, low buildings. I could smell

something cooking, so the barbecue portion of the deal was intact. Ricardo shut the engine off,

and we went to get out, but I stopped him with a hand.

Listen, I said slurring.

Thanks for looking out for me. Sorry if I'm a bit much to deal with at times.

You're a good friend, man. The best.

Ricardo gave me a sad smile.

Through thick and thin, he said,

never again. I finished. It was some stupid saying we'd come up with in high school,

a contradiction of sorts, but it seemed appropriate at the moment.

We headed to a wide courtyard area between two buildings where about three dozen people were

milling around. There were tables of snacks and coolers of non-alcoholic drinks. A couple of

grills were going, but what I immediately fixated on were the people in baby blue polo shirts and

khaki shorts walking around with smiles frozen on their faces. They made up about a third of the

people. Oh, shit, dude. I said, is this a cult? It looks like a cult.

Uh, I don't know. Ricardo said, I just read that they boast a 90% success rate with alcoholics.

...