By definition, vacations take you outside your routine, and the best ones take you outside yourself. Freed from your conceptions about who you are, you can more properly reflect upon who you want to be, and how you might become that person. Maybe you want to be a person who writes a Hell of a lot more, and engages in bullshit that doesn’t interest you a lot less. Maybe you wanna be a guy who makes fewer excuses and more magic. The sort of person who keeps promises made to yourself years ago that got lost in the chaos of life. The kind of man who will intentionally touch fire coral not because you’re ignorant of the pain it will cause, but precisely to feel that pain, gauge its strength, and know you are alive . . . Okay, maybe not the fire coral stuff, but the rest of it. And as you board the plane back to your life, you realize that this is not a return flight, but a one way departure to a life you do not yet know. And your seat is in its full and upright position. And your seat belt is fastened tight around your hips. And you can’t stop smiling.