I am back in Minneapolis, where my family and I are living and apparently running a sort of lodge/bed and breakfast from our rustic, cabin-style home. The rustic aspect is surprising, as we also live right by the collapsed 35W bridge. I am out skateboarding while some friends watch when I decide to go right over the edge of the fallen bridge into the water of the Mississippi. They are awestricken and I have an epiphany: I will ride my skateboard west through Missouri (wait, Missouri? I was just in Minnesota, remember? This, my friends, is a continuity error.) and onto some other state to meet up with Kris. I go home to the lodge, run past the guests having round table discussions, and tell my parents of my decision. My dad is against it, not for the obvious reasons, but because he feels I won’t have access to a critical nutrient. He points out that he gets his through one of his silly supplements that he gets through some new age nutrition company. He recites the rhetoric clearly given to him by some snake oil salesman about how I need this special nutrient to process my protein correctly. I use scientific arguments against his but he will not listen to reason. I storm upstairs, angry about my father’s archaic refusal to accept science over faith (yes I took the idea that far) only to find my friends. A lot of them have bought longboards because of my stunt, which is great, but they all bought the same one I did right down to the green wheels. I throw my hands up in despair and run out the door, thus beginning my trek to be with Kris.