I remember the road down which we were turning to drive out, driving wherever it was we were going. If we followed it to the end, it would reach Anchorage. We didn't have a clue; we didn't have a care; we were just driving there in the late fall snow. Powder on the ground. No cash. No flashlight. Not dressed for the weather. Three chicks, a Suburban, and a lot of potential trouble.
I was figuring out how I could get my hands on a pen -- should we turn back for my ID and a pen? -- or keep traveling? -- when I woke up.