So, like, there I was, engrossed in an old National Geographic show on Hulu about this guy Lincoln finally summitting Mt. Everest then being left for dead on the descent only to revive himself courtesy of a practice of Buddhist meditation.

I was absolutely and naively certain no one would ascend to 30,000 on the MOAB Mountain without me.

The show ends with the hero duly resurrected, if somewhat permanently brain damaged, and what do I find? I've been left to freeze in a snow drift in the deadzone of MOAB, oxygen gone, faint breath, hallucinating from the brain edema and lack of oxygen, as obsessed climbers, intent on their own glory, march on, stepping heedlessly over my prostrate body in the middle of the path.

Jeez, what kind of family are you!