My father's AA buddy Bug, a loquacious little old ex-Merchant Marine with lots of stories about Dallas in the '30s and '50s, came to my parents' house. I went over too, and after about an hour of delaying tactics, we managed to take him back over to the rehab center. There, we waited around for about three hours total, as a counselor, a doctor, and some other employee all gave my father the once-over and asked him questions. Bug and I accompanied my father over to the ward, which looked pretty fucking grim, frankly. A TV blaring a football game, desultory addicts at the end of their ropes wandering around, bare hard floors, locked doors, and underpaid attendants. They took his bag, we said our goodbyes and left him to be "skin-searched." I hope he stays, but damn if I wouldn't blame him for walking out again.
At midnight, I went to have a couple of drinks and see Blade Runner with Epalg. I think the movie's rather boring, but it was a nice diversion from some of my many worries.