DATING: AL DENTE Chapter 2: The Guy Who Cracked His Head Open (go to the previous page) We got about 15 minutes into our drive and I requested that he pull over to a funky-looking cove that was at the bottom of an embankment. The beach was littered with round smooth rocks, just the kind I was asked to bring home with me for souvenirs. We clambered down the slope -- keep in mind it was pouring rain, as it had been since my plane landed -- and we decided to separate for a bit to look around at stuff. About 10 minutes passed and I had bagged all my rocks, so I stood up to see where Boy Wonder had wandered off to. I spotted him off yonder, pretending to intently study some kind of rock formation, then all hell broke loose: I saw him slip on a wet rock and, like an anvil-headed Coyote slithering down a cartoon boulder, go down like a brick shithouse -- whacking his head once on the way down, and once more when he hit the ground. NO MOVEMENT. SHIT! Deciding to prioritize my duties during this situation, I grabbed my bag of rocks and ran over to him to see what the hell was (or wasn't) up. Well, "up" was not the operative word of the day -- he had busted his head open and was lying facedown in a pool of skanky seawater, the crack of his ass glistening with raindrops, his car keys shining on the ground, beckoning me to just scoop them up and drive myself over the border to safety. What was I to do? He was a big boy, easily weighing close to 100 pounds more than I, and I couldn't carry him up the cliff to the car. I poked him with my foot. Nothing. I called his name. Nothing. I poked him again, this time rolling him over, and he started to gain consciousness. Go on to the next page.