Do you remember where I was before? Hip hip! I'm not there anymore. And because I love annoyingly vague references to my life, particularly those involving poo--and who doesn't?--I'm bestowing upon you an update.
My Coast Guard friends, long supportive via long distance radio communications (or something?) finally arrived. I strapped on that harness, and the chopper lifted me from the smelly ship high, high into the clear blue sky. (Admittedly, there was a moment of nervous neck rash somewhere in there, but I'm used to that by now.)
So here I am, swinging from a cable above Poop Sea and below the helicopter piloted by the Coast Guard. Sailing through the sky is frightening, but let me tell you something: the air is clear up here, and there are no flies. There is a chance I will have to stay in my airborne harness for a while, spinning and twisting in the wind, and occasionally losing circulation in my legs from the harness straps. It's a risk I am willing to take. The choice was easy; I was drowning.
And, if I am very, very lucky, I may just get to land softly on that wide, wooden bridge I see on the horizon.