The travel gods blessed me with an empty middle seat on the seven-hour red-eye to Amsterdam. Physically, I had plenty of room to stretch out and relax. Mentally, I was a nervous wreck. My Ego understood exactly what was at stake on this trip, and so did my wife when she kissed me goodbye. I never said it out loud, but we both knew the truth. If the psychedelics didn’t work, I was hitting the self-destruct button. As the rest of the cabin began dozing off, my asshole Ego decided to manifest himself in seat 16B. This time, he took…
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