I will spend a lot of money.
I expect this trip (to the Bitter End Yacht Club, or BEYC) to be no different. In fact, I've been filled with a nameless dread. But I shall overcome this nameless dread. By naming it. Dread, I hereby dub thee "Crognar".
It doesn't help that our flight is at 7:50 AM.
Our flight out will be delayed and we'll sit on the tarmac for two hours.
We will miss our connection in Atlanta.
The puddle-jumper from San Juan to Tortola will not have in-flight beverage service.
The ferry from Tortola to BEYC will have mechanical difficulties, leaving us drifting aimlessly.
Somehow, I will end up stranded on a tiny island, but unlike Tom Hanks, I will have no volleyball to befriend.
Loss of an appendage (due to shark attack).
A plague of biting insects.
Then, on the second day, I will be killed by pirates. Actually, that may come as a relief.
In summary, goodbye cruel world.