two total choices: eliminate your map, or make the call — "or you can get out the…"

The fork the entire theme turns on: at the jumping-off place there are exactly two exits, suicide or surrender, and nothing in between. The scene's grim actuarial note — that addicts and alcoholics "compose over 70% of a given year’s suicides" — makes the choice literal, and Louise B.'s thwarted Hancock-Building dive is offered as its spectacular local myth. What makes AA possible is precisely how bad the alternative is: the blubbering 0200h. phone call is a humiliation you only accept because the only other door left is self-elimination. (The "eliminate your own map" idiom is maps-territory's; the suicide statistics and Louise B.'s dive share with depression-anhedonia — cross-refs, not re-landed.)