“We are going to Alaska, full stop! Don’t come out of nowhere trying to change the plans!” — Lowkey Lokesh was not entertaining Ravi Raj’s last-minute pitch for a skydiving trip. After a much needed yelling session, it was decided: Alaska, August 28th.

No plans, no itineraries. Not even a rough idea of what we were doing. That’s just how it goes with us — the fact that everyone’s showing up is the only thing that matters. Bois started landing one by one. A full day passed. No Diddy. Turns out he was stuck in some layover. That was the sign I needed. If the chaos found us before the trip even started, this was going to be epic. E-P-I-C.

The first few days were at the best Airbnb I’ve ever stayed at. I mean the best. A lake, a patch of flat ground that may as well have been built for cricket, a fire pit for the cold nights, and auroras that looked so unreal you’d swear someone edited them in. It felt like a dream the whole time.

At some point the Dalton Highway debate kicked off — did we have enough time to squeeze it in on top of everything else? We did what we always do: said yes to everything and made sleep pay the price. I’d walked in completely cooked from a stretch at work, fully expecting to finally sleep in and take it slow. Instead I was running on black coffees, the same old story.

TBD