¶ … Alcoholics Anonymous meeting: April 17, from 6:30 to 7:30 P.M. In Paso Robles, California. I previously had contacted the leader of the AA meeting to see if I could get permission to attend a session. He wondered if I was in the media, and I told him this was for a college class; and after he explained that everything is open for discussion in these meetings he made clear that I was not to use any real names in my report. I agreed and here is what happened at that meeting.

As I approached the meeting place -- in the back of a small retail building on a busy street near downtown -- several men and a woman were smoking cigarettes outside the building and greeted me with "hi." There was an outside ash tray jammed full of cigarette butts, but no cigarette butts were on the ground. I was a few minutes early so I chatted with two of the participants, who were drinking black coffee. "There's a big coffee pot inside if you would like a cup," said a man with a tiny frame, shaky hands, and a face that had serious scars and wrinkles. "But there's no smoking inside," he added. "California laws, you know."

Inside there were steel folding chairs set up in a large circle in the middle of the large room. There were five tall windows on each side of the room, but curtains covered them so very little outside light was available. It was April, and the sun didn't set until well after seven o'clock, but the inside lights were adequate. Lights were placed in the ceiling corners, not bright spotlights but softer lights that illuminated the room but didn't blast participants with too much light. The place smelled of coffee and cigarettes. There was a little mini-kitchen with an old-fashioned and huge coffee maker (drip kind); paper cups and sugar and powered creamer were available and I noticed quite a messy counter top as...

It smelled of cigarettes because that odor clings to clothing, and just about everyone smoked. I counted eleven people, plus the leader.
THREE: There were eleven people (not counting me and the leader) in the room at the start, all seated including the leader, Greg, powerfully built African-American Vietnam veteran. There were three women, seated together. One was probably in her 60s, with a nervous tick that made her head twitch when she talked. Another woman was more like thirty-something, a very attractive brunette with too much makeup and tight-fitting jeans and a beautiful blue sweater that showed off her figure. The third woman was quite overweight with straggly hair and blemishes prominent on her face. She was probably in her 40s. The men varied from working class to middle class; three working class members were Latino, another member was probably Middle Eastern, the rest of the men were Caucasian. The Latino had tattoos totally covering his arms and he wanted them seen because he took off his jacket and had a sleeveless t-shirt underneath. Two of the Caucasians wore nice clothes (slacks and dress shirts) as though they had come from an office job. The group was friendly; they all knew each other, and engaged in small talk when the leader wasn't calling for their attention. This was not a grim meeting at all; there was laughter and obviously alcoholics drink a lot of coffee and have cigarette habits. Halfway through the meeting another man, the twelfth person, arrived, probably in his early thirties wearing an Oakland Raiders hoodie with a Raiders cap placed backwards on his head. He was chewing tobacco and had a can next to his chair -- into which he would spit every few minutes. No one seemed to care about this uncouth habit. He was a regular and seemed…