Tonight was the last night together for the passengers and crew of the Golden Fleece, and no one wanted to go to bed. We all went out to dinner, waited an hour and a half for the food to come, then returned to the boat, drank a bit, and talked about everything from milking horses to smuggling Incan sword hilts to an Osama vs. Bush pay-per-view match. At one point Mike mixed Budweiser and milk together (I can’t recall what prompted it) and the resulting concoction was actually not all that bad. There was a lot of laughter, and I’m writing this now thinking that I’m going to miss this group greatly once everyone heads off to the airport tomorrow. I started out knowing the trip would have its lonely moments, but I didn’t suspect that parting with fellow passengers would be such a big one.
"My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?" — David Mitchell