[ WP ] You 've been drifting at sea for 20 days , and you 're beginning to wonder if leaving the island was such a great idea .

Water. 
 
 
 There was a lot of fucking water. 
 
 
 My thirst would have settled for less. 
 
 The raft was n't steady. It had a habit of rocking back and forth, up and down, making my insides feel on the verge of joining the world- I was seasick. I had forgotten that I get seasick. I'm seasick and sick of the sea. 
 
 The raft, right. It was n't steady, so if I moved on it wrong, I fell off. My clothes were dried and salty. I was still and sunburnt. It was n't a good combination. `` Oh, I took a year of shop, I can manage this!'' Please. There was n't any need for a crooked shelf on the S.S. Hindsight. Maybe, maybe- very just maybe, it could have been used for shade. I needed some shade. I was baked. 
 
 My phone still was n't working. The plastic bag had been a good idea. Picking AT & T, less so. My battery was nearly dead, and I still did n't have a signal out here. They could n't bother to service the ocean? What about the little islands and shit? Okay, I was salty. In more ways than one. 
 
 The alcohol had dried up fast. If there was one thing the minibar was, it was... mini. So, I was sober, still, sunburnt, and sad. I was sad. This was n't some adventure. It was n't some do-it-yourself getaway. It was n't anything like castaway, there were n't any volleyballs. This was hell. 
 
 I missed the island. I missed overpriced food and beer. I missed the cheery fucking tour guides with their condescending smiles. I missed my wife, and also sex with my wife. I even missed my in-laws. They probably did n't return the favor. 
 
 I wonder if they got a refund on my room.
