On October 3rd (Friday) I awoke waiting for the journey to begin. Anxiety set in as I realized my Colombian friend was suppose to have arrived from Tallahassee two hours ago.

I had called him the night before and he had told me he was sick, but had been for over a week and it was winding down. This was a worrying me because there is nothing in the world like my sick Colombian friend.

Just as I was calling his apartment, I saw him pulling into the parking lot of my apartment.

My other friend (now girlfriend), Vera, showed up on time as expected, packed and ready to go.

The three of us went to Farah’s restaurant to eat lunch as we waited for our other friend, John, who was taking a test.

The time had come to HIT THE ROAD. We were very excited and ready to roll. This is when Felipe (AKA: Nacho, The Sick Colombian,) informed us he needed gas. “OK,” I thought to myself, “This shouldn’t take too long.” We had a schedule to keep, for we all wanted to hit Ft. Myers Beach before sunset.

We were not going to hit Ft. Myers Beach before sunset, for we were engaged in a 20 minute fuel-up, and tire-fill. This did not worry us. We were on our way towards a beautiful weekend.

On the road we were. Three and a half hours of straight, boring highway we endured. The magic we felt getting into the car died somewhere around Ocala. Nacho’s air didn’t work, nor did his radio but at least his car ran, mine was out of commission.

However, spirits were rejuvenated once our destination was reached. Alas, Ft. Myers!

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