I quit on January 1st, 2003, on board the aircraft carrier Harry S Truman, CVN-75. We had pulled into Souda Bay, Crete, for New Year's Eve, and I drank wwwaaaayyy too much. The last thing I remember is one of the aviation Marines that worked for me walking up to me with 2 glass boots (if you've been to Souda, you know what I'm talking about) filled with the local brew, saying, "I don't know what happened to my liberty buddies, you guys wanna help me out?"
Don't remember getting back aboard, don't remember making it to my rack, but I remember clearly the smell of a stainless steel, vomit-filled saltwater toilet my head was hanging more or less IN when I came to. Not a smell I'd care to repeat.
I was completely alcohol-free until December 06, when I was out with my g/f and some neighbors at a restaurant, and I had a beer with my steak. Now I'm an occassional beer guy, rarely (if ever) a liquor guy, and I'm just as happy without as with. Self-control came after a hard lesson, for me.