When I got there, I called the girls from my cell phone. It was my last time to hold that thing. This is symbolic. I called them, told them that I was getting on a boat and crossing that damn ocean, if it killed me. They told me that they trusted me, and I told them that I loved them. That nobody in the world was going to know where I was for a while, but that when I landed somewhere, that I swore to God that I would write them. And everything would be okay. They cried, I cried. A little. Then I destroyed that cursed digital thing. I smashed it with my boot, and laughed when I did it. I picked up what was left, and threw it off the pier, into God’s big water. I threw my contact with the world into God’s ocean, where it would be rendered utterly useless for communication. And I laughed again, for the first time in weeks.