Nick was thankful to be somewhat alone. For most of the cruise, it was he, Brian, Howie, and AJ, as well as around 1,200 fans. Twenty four hours a day.

                He was ready for some alone time.

                Or as alone as he could get on the cruise.

                For his excursion, Nick decided to go rock climbing. He figured only the fittest fans would be interested. No, he didn’t pick it to get away from the fatties, he just figured that up on the side of the cliff, it would be he, the cliff, and his belayer. All the others rock climbing with him would disappear.

                As the group hiked closer to the cliff face, more and more fans hung back and eventually disappeared, realizing this wasn’t a joke. In the end, it turned out to be himself and only about four others. The instructors walked everyone through the basics, then the small group was on their way, scaling up the side of the cliff.

                Nick was so lost in thought he hadn’t been securing his line to the wall at all.

                For most climbers who knew what they were doing it wasn’t that big of a deal. Yes, it was dangerous, but they could just hook into the next safety to make sure if they fell, they wouldn’t fall too hard.

                But Nick wasn’t an avid climber by any stretch of the imagination. When he realized he hadn’t been securing his line, he just figured he would continue without it. Nothing had happened yet, he doubted he would actually need it.

                Wrong.

                His next step, his fingers lost their grip on the cliff. His fingernails came off as he scrambled for a hold, but in his panic, his feet lost their hold as well.

                As Nick fell 60 feet below, he kept thinking “Maybe I should’ve picked Jet Skiing…”