“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Katz said implacably. “What do you mean you’ll cross that bridge? We’re on the bridge, you moron. There’s a bear out here, for Christ sake. He’s looking at us. He smells noodles and Snickers and—oh, shit.” “What?” “Oh. Shit.” “What?” “There’s two of them. I can see another pair of eyes.” Just then, the flashlight battery started to go. The light flickered and then vanished. I scampered into my tent, stabbing myself lightly but hysterically in the thigh as I went, and began a quietly frantic search for spare batteries. If I were a bear, this would be
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I aspire to be like Krantz in life or death situations
