“But there was always the curious mental phenomenon that parallel with our sound reasoning there inevitably ran some insanely trivial excuse for taking the first drink.” (Chapter Three, Big Book)
Imagine being on a train platform. On the right is your
regular train, heading towards your destination. On the left is a sinister
train painted in garish colours depicting images of a circus. Inside you can
see people having a ball. There are strongmen, acrobats, monkeys, clowns, the
lot. The circus folk are milling around on the platform, chatting to people,
encouraging them to get on the train. One of them persuades you to join them,
saying, “Your train does not leave for an hour. Come with us. You’ll be there
in a trice. You can have all the fun of the circus. But don’t worry: we’ll get
you back in time for your train.” You decide to take the clown up on his offer,
and board the train. You take your seat, enjoying the amazing atmosphere. You
close your eyes for a moment, and when you open them, you realise you’re inside
a cattle wagon. There are no windows. The clowns, the acrobats, the monkeys are
gone. There’re only the strongmen left, and they’re guarding the doors. The
train moves off.