By Greg Mionske
My cell phone rips out a startling harmony and stirs me from my slumber. I flip open the nagging device. Rob Gonzalez-Pita is on the other end with the dangerous question.
“You still wanna go?”
I hesitate, momentarily thinking of what a reply of “no” would yield: at least five more hours of sleep in a warm bed and filling meals throughout the day, interlaced with steaming cups of black coffee. It all seems so sweet.
“Yeah, let’s do it.”