In October of 2020 I embarked on a surf expedition to Yakutat, Alaska. We’d spend 5 days on The Milo, a decommissioned fishing vessel that had been outfitted to explore remote surf breaks. Due to COVID, most of the guests had to cancel their trip. Except for me and Dave. Dave lives in California. He owns a cleaning company. He’s got money. He’s got kids. Dave is an achiever and a hard worker. When I first got on the boat, I didn’t think we would get along. I was a delivery driver at the time, who had just spent 6 months living with my parents, and the last two months living in my van. I had spent all my money on this trip. Everything about us seemed different. But it was the captain, Mike, the guide, Scott, and the deckhand, Maya, Dave, and myself, so there was no avoiding being together. There were long hours between our morning and afternoon sessions and without phone connection, we were left to each other’s company. What happened was exactly what, deep down, I know always happens when you engage with someone else for a sustained amount of time. I realized that all the judgements I had made when I first met him were mostly incorrect. As we caught waves together and squeezed around the tiny table were we shared meals, our barriers began to wash away. He told me about his childhood, growing up poor and making a living for himself. He shared, with tears in his eyes, all the things his son with special needs says to him that reminds him how beautiful life is. That his whole experience raising kids has completely opened up his heart. I shared too, about my pain and my uncertainty. As we listened to one another we kept finding the threads that tied us together. I wish I could spend a week on a boat with each person that I come across that makes me think, you’re not like me.