Once upon a time, a party of friends embarked on a canoe trip far out in the Alaskan wilderness. The party consisted of Olga McDonald who was a farmer by trade; Paul Bunion who owned a sawmill and construction company, Sauer Doh, a prospector and amateur metallurgist; Botty Crecker who was a chef; Brooklynne Bridge, an engineer; Hans Armstrong, a laborer; Gerald Eyejoe, an ex-Navy SEAL who ran a big game guide service; and Freddy MacLehman, a bank teller.
Well, as it happened, Hans and Paul decided to play a game of chicken in the middle of a lake. In a testosterone steeped stupor, neither canoe operator chickened out in time. Their canoes collided violently and both canoes, ruptured by the impact, sank to the bottom. What would have been a minor incident was exacerbated by the fact that in spite of Gerald’s protests, Brooklynne had packed the group’s entire inventory of GPS systems, maps, compasses, radios and cell phones into Hans’ canoe. As a result, all of their navigation and emergency contact gear was irretrievably lost.
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