We're going the wrong way! Vila Kalango is not this way. It's 3am and Mitu assures me as we stroll down the sand filled streets of Jericoacoara that he knows the route home. But I know he's lying to me by his sideways grin. We turn the corner to see the only lit building still open, the late night padaria. We're stopping in for midnight munchies, known as larica in Portuguese. Midnight munchies snacks consist of fresh baked bread topped with either chocolate, bananas or cheese. The padaria is only open from 2am till 7am for the sole purpose of feeding inebriated souls like ours returning from a night of dancing at the Forró.

As I stare at the giant flippers sticking off the end of the bed I think to myself, man does Norm ever have big feet. He slumbers away in the bed next to me, sawing logs while falling asleep listening to poker on the radio. Who falls asleep listening to radio poker? With a couple of grunts and farts, he wakes, pulls back his beauty mask to reveal his puffy swollen eyes, and gives me the middle finger with a smile. Good morning! He wears the beauty mask every night to sleep, but I don't have the heart to tell him that it isn't helping. He's still ugly. But the perfect bunk mate on this epic journey. We keep each other humble with the endless ball busting. He's a unique cat to say the least, and one super cool dude.

Did anyone get the license plate of the truck that ran me over? Damn my body hurts. I am definitely not the man I used to be.
As I, let's call it, roll out of bed, my bones ache like a twenty year NFL lineman veteran the day after Super Bowl Sunday. I swear I could hear creaking like old barn doors those first couple of steps off my horizontal heaven. Did we really cover almost 70kms yesterday along the Brazilian north coast? By the pain I feel everywhere in my body, that is a big ten four.

It's 1am our 2nd pro Sebastian Ribeiro fresh off his victory at the Brazilian University Surf League championships rolls into my room, exhausted from a weekend of competition. We exchange pleasantries and both collapse into our pillows.

In Brazil the sun rises at 5am, 4 hours before our rider meeting, and I was already awake with giddiness of anticipation for our upcoming day. Finally at 8am Sebastian and I roll out of our beds, and make our way to the breakfast room. Seems we aren't the only ones excited for the day. In fact, we're the last ones to arrive.

The text message from Lauren reads in a panic, I'm on the plane. We're taking off in thirty minutes, and you're not here!! Where are you?Crap! I'm late. I've fallen asleep in a rocking chair in Terminal D at Miami International, and was in a deep slumber. Half asleep I leap to my feet and start running. Out the terminal doors into the main concourse frantically looking for an airport layout map to hopefully tell me where gate J is located. Just my luck, it's on the complete opposite side of this massive structure called an airport. Run Forrest run!! I'm running so quickly, I actually run past my gate. Two gates later I realize I've gone too far and have to back track. Stumbling up to the gate, it's very obvious that I'm the last one to board, and everyone is waiting for me. Clumsily I pull out my boarding pass and passport, swipe the scanner, and scurry down the on ramp to the waiting 767 eager to leave for Brazil.