It was sometime in mid-December of 2017, I was a senior on Christmas break, and to my relief, I finally didn't have to deal with some additional homework assignments for the next short two weeks. I was feeling a bit sick, an unrelenting knot between my stomach that at times would suddenly twist and pull violently. My emotions were eating itself out. Around 3 PM earlier in the day, my school's email gave a loud ring in my pockets. I struggled a bit, shoving my hands down my tight 34-size Levi pants, frustrated as it rang constantly. Publicly, I looked like an insane man with a mild case of crabs as I tried desperately to view my phone, but I knew this was a crucial moment for me, so I didn't care how I looked.
I recall taking this picture back in 2017 I believe. I remember us hitching our bikes among our shoulders, and shyly creeping through a field of pesticide infested weeds. The gnats and mosquitoes were clinging onto our legs, as we stepped onto the damp dirt. We were eagerly trying to get into Dead Man's Tunnel. Peter was with us that day after he recently suffered a broken ankle that put him in the hospital for months. Sadly, I had a lot of guilt for that incident, the whole crew did. The three of us were rather excited to see Peter back in action again finally. I missed him talk about politics, as he’d go on this endless rant about this nation is great, and screw anyone who goes against it.