Excerpts 11–20 · The Functional Adult Illusion
The Map of 13J
Ten excerpts. Ten places. The drinking doesn't get louder — it gets lonelier. A geography of increasing isolation, from the Campanile to an impound lot no one can find.
For Little to Know Experience by Dave Kitchens
Graduation through the DUI aftermath. Dave has the degree, the job, the condo, the girlfriend, the CPA pursuit. From the outside, a young professional building a life in a city that's starting to believe in itself.
Underneath: the kitchen ritual migrates. The hiding starts. Every consequence gets absorbed, rationalized, and filed under “bad, but survivable.”
The Hill
The Campanile, Mount Oread
“The tallest point in Kansas. Campus always slightly above you, always asking you to climb.”
Graduation day. Walked through the Campanile with friends, started down the hill, felt the campus letting go. Ended at Louise’s with $2.75 Boulevard Wheat schooners.
What he told himself
“I’m pumped. I’m ready.”
What was actually happening
“I needed to grieve a chapter while it was still open.”
○Friends, family, the whole stadium
Fully social
Tulsa
The Remington Apartments
“Clean in that new-city way. Blank walls. That faint smell of someone else’s paint.”
Family convoy left. Silence showed up. Jeremy came down. Different kitchen, same routine. Drank and watched TV until work started. Woke up on concrete stairs outside the apartment, no keys.
What he told himself
“It’s an extension of college. We’re still free.”
What was actually happening
“The specific silence after your family drives away. The room stops being a set. It becomes your life.”
○Roommate found him on the stairs
New city, old habits
The First Hiding
Jeremy’s Apartment, across from Memorial Stadium
“Below ground. Patio enclosed by earth. Stadium literally across the street.”
Saturday morning. Only one awake. Poured drinks alone in the kitchen while everyone slept. Set a buzz before the game. Ended at hibachi, queasy from smells that usually felt alive. Monday alarm at 6:15 — first PTO day considered.
What he told himself
“I’m managing the day. It’s practical.”
What was actually happening
“That was the first time it really looked like hiding, even if I didn’t call it that.”
○Everyone asleep — first solo kitchen session
First hiding
Liberty Tower, 13J
Liberty Tower, 15th & Boulder, Unit 13J
“One bed, one bath, one giant sliding glass door. The balcony was where everything made sense.”
First place that was truly his. Doorman, rooftop pool, balcony view. Adopted Cole the cat. The condo became pregame staging area — friends gathered here before going out.
What he told himself
“I’ve arrived. Car and home without a cosigner. I have it together.”
What was actually happening
“There’s a line between freedom and danger you don’t recognize until you’ve crossed it. ‘I can do whatever I want’ starts to sound like permission.”
○Cole the cat. Always Cole.
Freedom as infrastructure
Pre-game
Liberty Tower kitchen → McNellie’s → Arnie’s
“Solo run-through in my own kitchen, city glowing through the sliding door like a backdrop.”
May 2010. The ritual happened before anyone arrived. Cheap vodka, baseline set, smooth before the door opened. Then the circuit: McNellie’s (white collar), Arnie’s (blue collar). Walking downtown with the buzz and the warm air.
What he told himself
“I don’t have a problem. I found the solution.”
What was actually happening
“I liked having my baseline set before anyone arrived. I liked meeting the room already warmed up.”
○Alone in kitchen → friends arrive → group night out
Pre-drinking before the drinking
The Train Shot
A bar near the train tracks
“Tracks close enough to hear the approach. Patrons cooked dinner out back like the place belonged to them.”
October 2009. Met a woman he can’t identify from memory. A train goes by, you take a shot. Sent a Facebook message the next day. Started a relationship on rails he didn’t lay.
What he told himself
“It’s just a night out. The train rule is fun. This is how people meet.”
What was actually happening
“A reason you don’t have to invent. Moving forward fast enough that I didn’t ask where it was going.”
○Bar crowd — but he can’t remember her face
Social drinking, memory gaps
CPA
Liberty Tower, 13J — couch, desk, kitchen
“Pass out on the couch with the game still running. Character standing in place, idle animation looping.”
2010–2012. Company paying for CPA. Self-study plan that never materialized. Skyrim and Red Dead instead. Failed AUD with a 46. Passed with a 75 on the dot. Champagne shower on the balcony. ‘Random’ drug tests twice.
What he told himself
“I’ve got time. I can pull it off without doing the work.”
What was actually happening
“The kitchen was my favored geography because it made postponement feel productive.”
○Solo — games, couch, pour, repeat
Routine solitary drinking
KC / The Drive Back
Parents’ house → the car → Liberty Tower
“Four hours in a car has a way of removing your exits.”
Breakup at parents’ house. Grabbed a bottle, polished it off alone. Drove her back to Tulsa, held it together until the door closed. Called dad. Parents drove down. Then she broke in a week later, sobbing on the bed. He took her back.
What he told himself
“We’re leaving. I’m fine. I’m handling it.”
What was actually happening
“I can be falling apart internally and still perform competence if there’s a task in front of me.”
○Alone with a bottle. Called dad after.
Crisis drinking — solo, fast, desperate
The Dewey
Highway → jail → unknown Kansas City neighborhood
“I don’t know where that arrest happened. I couldn’t get you there if you offered me a billion dollars.”
August 2011. Polished off a liter of vodka on the drive up. Blew .182 and felt sober. Jumpsuit. Nurse said ‘I’m just glad you didn’t hurt anyone else.’ Bailed out at 4 AM on a credit card. Officer asked: ‘Dewey?’
What he told himself
“I was definitely buzzed, but I didn’t feel that drunk. I felt capable.”
What was actually happening
“I was three times the legal limit and didn’t feel like it. That was a data point I couldn’t smooth over.”
○Completely alone. A liter of vodka in a car.
Solo. Moving. A liter deep.
The Aftermath
Parents’ apartment → impound lot → DMV → Tulsa
“Crushed beer cans on the passenger floor. Little metal shame receipts.”
Lawyer said ‘you were shockingly well put together for a .182.’ Brother picked up a crushed can: ‘Seriously?’ DMV woman fake-restricted his license as a joke. Victim panel. Psych eval where he lied about blackouts. Monthly urine tests for a year.
What he told himself
“Bad, but survivable. I got caught, I got scared, I changed.”
What was actually happening
“I got caught, I got scared, I adapted. And then I kept going.”
○Lawyer, brother, DMV clerk — but none saw the drinking
Aftermath alone. Consequences managed.
The Isolation Arc — E11 to E20
The drinking doesn't escalate in volume during Excerpts 11–20. It escalates in isolation. Every excerpt moves the drinking one step further from witnesses. Hill with friends, pregame alone in someone else's kitchen, solo baseline-setting in his own kitchen, a liter of vodka alone on a highway. The geography tells the story the prose politely declines to narrate.
He had a doorman, a rooftop pool, a balcony, a cat, a CPA, and a girlfriend. He could walk to work.
He also couldn't name the intersection where his life almost ended. That's the gap these ten excerpts live inside.
“I got caught, I got scared, I adapted.”
“And then I kept going.”
Filed by the Architecture Council · March 2026
Chaos → Structured → Automated