American Idol featured a woman who was a recovered meth addict. The show producers delved into her stories of woe, giving us a great hardship and triumph story worthy of John Edward’s mills and Huckabee’s substandard hotel reservations. Which is nice, I suppose? Who doesn’t love a story of triumph in the face of overwhelmingly bad odds.

But I just can’t connect on this one. I’m not trying to be cruel, nor am I saying that addictions aren’t scary bad things for some people. For that matter, I’m not saying that I’m stronger, smarter, tougher, or better than anyone else. I have my weaknesses, I know them well, and I combat them daily.

But I just can’t connect to this one.

During the happy-fun-bartending years, I tried pretty much any pharma-product that came my way. Whether it came in pill or powder, I was happy to give it a shot. The only thing that I never got around to was injecting myself simply because that seemed to be going a step too far. Poking extra holes in my skin to facilitate a drug felt a little desperate.

My drug of choice was coke, but I dabbled a few times with meth, and it wasn’t the terrifying destroyer of lives that I’ve heard other people describe. It was a brutal high, it lasted too long, it crashed too hard, and it made me feel twitchy. I didn’t like it and experimentation ended after a few very long nights (very long--both time lasting a few days of finding ways to fill my hours with even more mistakes than usual).

I never had that happy high that I had with coke--that booze, coke, and limo excursion with a big group of friends on the way to see U2 playing Mile High. I had a little wager going with one of my friends as to which of us could get more kisses from random passers by while we were stuck in ridiculous traffic. She managed a few smooches from some of the cars going by. Being on the other side of the limo, I got a little more action from girls walking toward the stadium. The best smooch came from one very pretty, very young woman with a very irritated boyfriend. Oddly, I had propositioned her friend, who looked to be flying solo, but I wasn’t disappointed by the trade. After a few blissful moments and a little bit of tongue, she asked if I was important and if she could come with us to the concert.

I felt bad for her boyfriend and realized that there was no way that she wasn’t going to be happy with the crappy, top level tickets that my little crew had. Luckily, the cars were finally moving and I just laughed as I rolled up the window. She probably ended up far less happy with that smooch than I did, poor thing.

Point being, I have some happy memories of my cocaine days and nothing much happy or clear about the meth days. And, like every substance that I abused, when I decided to stop, I stopped. It was easy.

I fully realize that it isn’t the same way for others. For some reason, some people like the harsh high from the meth and they have a hard time putting it down. I get it, I just don’t care.

So, meth girl was pretty and she had a not-unpleasant voice, but the back story left me cold. I hope she does well partially because of the “she’s pretty” part and partially because I like the idea of having someone that I can refer to as “meth girl” throughout the contest. It’s a fun nickname. But they are really overplaying the tragic backstory thing this year. It may make me a complete bastard, but I really don’t care--in fact, I’d probably be more likely to appreciate a good, current heroin addict with talent than all the sob-story former tragedarians that they trot out to try to get me to connect to the second-rate talents that they usually trot out.

Oh, and this shouldn’t be construed as a blanket approval of drug use. I’ve been clean for almost a decade (honestly). Drugs are dumb. They lead to all sorts of bad stuff happening in everyone’s lives but my own. Once you start, you just can’t stop. You’ll probably go to hell if you inhale. Other bad things, too. Probably. So don’t do it.