"Fantasy" Football: Who's To Blame?

Think about a time in school when you did really well on a test. What would you say was the reason you did well on that test?

Now, conversely, recall a time when you did poorly on a test (I can recall a few of those). What was the reason for that performance?

My Example: In Biochemistry we had four units essentially. One professor taught the first and fourth units and the other professor taught the second and third. The 2-3 professor was noticeably worse than 1-4. Although knowledgeable, she was sporadic, incoherent, tangential, and pitifully organized. Her exams reflected the lectures, and on the Unit 3 exam, I received a 77%. I'll give you one guess as to what (whom) I immediately laid the blame on.

Sitting here I can almost guarantee all of you have had a similar experience. Whenever you do well on something academic, it's because you worked hard, did your research, studied the material diligently, left no stone unturned and subsequently reaped the rewards of "A+ -- GREAT JOB!" Subpar performance, on the other hand, is due to the professor's "terrible" exams, poorly worded questions, ambiguous instructions, harsh grading style, nitpicky nature, or because of the simple fact that "My professor just doesn't like me lol."

Though I'll admit, some professors are just plain awful.

In all likelihood this kind of justifying behavior could be extended to, say, ANY successes and failures in life, like running a 10K ("I trained so hard!" v. "It was really windy and hot and hilly and--"), getting a job ("I have a great resume and interviewed really well!" v. "They were looking for a really specific type of experience and they asked some curveball questions.") or even...like...fantasy football? (Hey! I be that's what this blog is going to be about!)

Indeed just about every week wannabe GM's will justify their losses due to "poor matchups" or unexpected, freakish factors, while attributing their wins to their "insight" and "hunches". Classic human behavior...

In psychology, an external attribution is when one blames (attributes) the outcome of an event on some outside (external) factor.

As you've probably guessed then, an internal attribution is when one blames the outcome of an event on a factor that was under his/her control. 

When I lose my mathcup with another leaguer (an unofficial but necessary term to distinguish between actual football players and fantasy footballers), I will, invariably, put a large chunk of the blame on external factors. Like if I started Brandon Marshall and he had a poor game, I might say, "Jay Cutler played terrible." But when I win, it will be because of my sage wisdom, "I KNEW Dez Bryant would have a big game!" We are all of us leaguers guilty of this phenomenon. But that's fine, it's human nature.

If only more people...

A more inclusive term to describe this kind of behavior is the fundamental attribution error. When someone commits the FAE, they overestimate the influence of one’s internal characteristics on an outcome and underestimate the influence that situational factors had on said outcome. This FAE and the attributions we talked of earlier can also be used in a different facet to describe the player selection process, like drafting and picking up "waiver" players.

Ken and I have put our heads together and come up with some educated hypotheses on these different tendencies, how experienced fantasy football leaguers pick players versus how novices do. Keep in mind these hypotheses are pure speculation not backed by research…yet…  

Experienced fantasy football leaguers are much more likely to do research on matchups, a player's current and past injuries, off the field character and suspension potential, and probability of success on his current team. These veterans will scour websites for any kind of inside information regarding a player's training camp performance, expected workload in the coming season, and overall role in the offense. That is, we think veterans are much more likely to consider external factors that could lead to a certain player's success than inexperienced players. Based on this acquired mass of knowledge, veterans are much less likely to commit the FAE.

Novice leaguers on the other hand, due to their lack of football understanding or shallow awareness of players in the league,  have a higher probability of selecting players based on those players' internal characteristics and commit the FAE ("Larry Fitzgerald has amazing hands!"). They are also more likely than veterans to select players based on familiarity ("I always see RG3 on Sportscenter”), or that novice's favoritism to a certain player ("Well, I don't know who this guy is, but he plays for the Dolphins, and I really like the Dolphins, so I'll pick him.").

A classic example of a veteran’s advantage over a novice during the drafts is when popular, talented NFL players sustain injuries prior to the start of the season and/or violate league policy in such a way that results in suspension. These players will be rated lower by analysts despite their enormous talent. Veterans will undoubtedly learn of this deprecating information; novices probably will not. Come draft day this year, I guarantee a fair amount of novice players will inevitably draft Rob Gronkowski much higher than he should be; they know Gronk is supremely talented but remain oblivious to the fact that his forearm is still healing and he is expected to miss at least four games this year.  

But do veterans have an invariable advantage over novices? Will a fantasy football leaguer always have a better team than a novice? My understanding of the nature of football inclines me to say no to both of those questions.

For example, last year Minnesota running back Adrian Peterson was coming off of a torn ACL (anterior cruciate ligament) -- one of the most grievous of football injuries and one that sets players back a long time. Now, "experts" on ESPN and NFL Network and everywhere else devalued the usually unstoppable AP because they figured his newly rehabbed ACL would prevent him from being what he was. 

Using this information, veteran leaguers around the nation adhered to the advice of the analysts and similarly underrated AP. But I'm sure some novice leaugers -- who probably didn't realize how hard it was to come back from an ACL tear or knew from Sportscenter that AP is a "beast" or maybe they were just overly optimistic Viking fans -- didn't underrate AP (i.e. committed the FAE) and selected him in the first round of their drafts.

Adrian Peterson had an MVP season last year and came just 9 yards shy of breaking the single-season rushing record.

The novices reaped the benefits of their ignorance, whereas the veterans were left kicking themselves for not picking AP 2nd overall when they had the chance.

There's a reason he's dubbed "Purple Jesus".

As I've said, football is wonderfully random. Anything can happen in any game, and there are literally dozens of factors and variables that affect performance. It's impossible for any one fantasy football leauger to not only identify all of these variables, but also connect and relate them in the correct fashion that leads them to understand exactly how a player is going to do that game. A veteran can read the matchup, understand if a player is on a hot streak, see that a team is coming off a bye week, and make a judgment based on these empirical data. But there's a lot more going on behind the scenes, and when it comes down to it, there's just no telling how a team or player will play on Sunday. So don't get too bent out of shape if your team struggles this season, that's just the nature of the beast.

"Fantasy" Football: Intro

Preliminary Note: Initially, this was going to be a one-time post commenting on a connection I made between a certain psychological phenomena in pathological gamblers and players of fantasy football. After discussing the original post with my friend, Ken, he convinced me to turn it into a miniseries that fleshes out the many psychological aspects concerning the addictive nature of fantasy football. This first post will now introduce those aspects as well as my inspiration for writing this. If you, Faithful Reader, couldn't care less about football (much less fantasy football), I think this will still be an interesting read as it will discuss psychology that we all experience in our everyday lives.
End of Note.

When one thinks about that phrase, Fantasy Football, it's hard to deny how apt of a name it is, and I'll tell you why.

Bear with me first.

I recently caught the end of Act Two of a This American Life show (a journalism radio show on NPR, airs on Saturdays). This story talked about gambling and why pathological gamblers stay pathological (at least, that's what I surmised, I only listened to the last 4-5 minutes of the show).

In the show, behavioral psychologist Mark Dixon illustrates the research he's been working on for the past few years in his lab at Southern Illinois. Dixon concentrates on what's called the "near-miss effect" in which gamblers almost win at a game of Blackjack or roulette. To study this, Dixon has constructed his lab to mimic a casino floor, complete with card tables, slot machines, roulette wheels -- the works.

"[My lab] looks like a casino," Dixon tells This American Life's Sara Koenig, "... Maybe not a five-star casino, but maybe a two-star casino on the interstate somewhere." 

While studying these gamblers, Dixon has found that the subjects like these near misses (Bar...Bar...Cherry...dang, so close!) more than a straight up loss, because they came up just short of the jackpot or 21 or whatever. In reality, a loss is a loss, a win is a win, especially when it comes to gambling. It's like basic programming ("if: Bar-Bar-Bar, then: Jackpot, baby."); a true or false question on a test; a mathematical proposition -- it either is or it isn't. So when gamblers think they've almost won and come to enjoy those outcomes more than losses, that's very maladaptive and problematic.

In the show, Dixon goes on to explain a study he conducted in 2006 that fleshes out the neurological aspects of this near-miss effect in pathological gamblers. While interesting, it's outside the scope of this blog. Here's the link to the transcript if you want to check it out, though: http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/466/transcript.

Been there.

Anyway, this near-miss effect reminded me of something I had learned last semester in Social Psychology, about being almost right. Before we get there, let's just consider a general case: A person might pose a hypothesis regarding an arbitrary and somewhat variable subject she has a fair amount of knowledge on (e.g. sports, economics). This knowledge boosts her confidence about the expected outcome (high self-esteem also solidifies confidence). If her hypothesis proves true, her confidence is furthered, self-esteem boosted, and she might say something like "I knew it!" (hindsight/self-serving bias). But when her hypothesis turns out to be false, she may lose confidence and, in order to save face, (externally) attribute the outcome to some outside factor that she didn't account for (e.g. environmental conditions, human error).

Now, let's say our gal, a golfer, claims:  "Tiger will win the British Open this year." But when Tiger finishes in a tie for second, she might say, "Well, he almost won." She was wrong, dead wrong, however since Tiger finished so close to first, she can say that she was very close -- oh, so very close -- to being right, which is much more preferable to admitting she was wrong. This "near-miss" allows her to maintain her reputation as knowledgeable in front of her peers who heard her make the initial claim, and she goes on thinking herself somewhat of a golf expert.

After listening to the show, my mind naturally drifted to how this "near-miss effect" prevails within the world of fantasy football. I thought of all the times I had acted exactly like our golfer friend did, how many times I had justified my intuition by noting how "close" I had come to being right. (The example that comes most readily to mind is in 2010, the week after Aaron Rodgers suffered a concussion in a loss against the Lions. Flynn had to start against the dominant Pats on a Sunday Night game. I boldly claimed the Pack would win that game, despite Rodg being out. Friends and family snorted contemptuously at such a statement, but it turns out the Pack only lost by 4 -- 31-27 or something like that. I was able to confront said snorters and justify my "erroneous" claim to them because the Pack had come so close to winning).

As I'm sure you have deduced by now, this type of "almost right" mentality is a big contributor (in my opinion) to the popularity of fantasy football. People read the magazines. They listen to the analysts. They watch ESPN and NFL Network shows. They scout. They research. They find the sleepers, the hidden talents, the breakouts, and they exercise their knowledge come draft day and the regular season.

But when their players do poorly, when their sleepers never wake up, when their stars fizzle out, do they say "Man, was I wrong to start him!"? 

No way, bro. 

Always been my excuse.

I can admit I've done that practically each week of the fantasy football season. Consider: The Cowboys are at home against the Jags, the worst run D in the league. DeMarco Murray practically comes alive on your computer screen saying "Start me, bro, you gotta start me!" This is the matchup you've been waiting for. He's projected 22 points. You start him. He gains 72 total yards. What do you say? "Dallas's line played like crap." "Dallas threw way too much." "Dallas was too predictable." "The Jags played out of their minds." 

Essentially, you're saying "It wasn't my fault."

Or consider this: you've got a gut feeling about Torrey Smith this week. "He's gonna have a huge game, I know it." The matchup is favorable (the Browns). You start him over Larry Fitzgerald. Torrey has 3 catches for 38 yards, but Flacco just overthrew him on what would have been a 53 yard touchdown, the ball grazed his fingertips (Fitz gets two TD's in his game against the Rams, by the way). You lose your matchup that week by 7 points. Whose fault is it? "Eff! If Flacco had thrown a better ball I toats would have won!" 

Translation: "I was so close to being right about my hunch on Smith." Yet you weren't right. You were wrong, broseph. But you go on thinking your hunches are viable, that you have a sage-like intuition because you came so close to being right that one time.

This type of mentality is ripe with psychological phenomena. The most beautiful attribute of the game of football, the attribute that has kept me watching and playing it for so many years, is how unpredictable and vagarious it is. The lowliest of teams can rise up and topple the most challenging foe. A 6th round draft pick can become a Hall of Famer (Tom Brady). The unlikeliest of players can become the most historic of heroes (David Tyree). The idea that one can become an expert on this game and be able to consistently predict outcomes, successes, and failures, is a fallacy. But many believe they can (it seems so easy), and many of those people engage in fantasy football.

God I hope this doesn't happen to Foster. Ever.

In a display of uncharacteristic ambition I'm going to try and tackle the psychology of fantasy football in a series of posts. Counterfactual thinking, near-misses, internal and external attributions, self-serving bias, the fundamental attribution error, the psychology of the sleeper, how a first-time fantasy footballer manages his team compared to a veteran. I'm going to try and flesh out all these topics and more as they pertain to fantasy football, and hopefully some of it will open eyes and minds.

Though I'm sure the effects will be minimal.

Stay tuned for the first official post, the topic of which has yet to be determined (probably internal v. external attributions and the self-serving bias).

Ken and I will be working in collaboration on this blog. Assume most of the thoughts are his and I am just the humble scribe. 

What I'm Listening To -- June Edition

 
 

Almost forgot about this. As I said in my Ecuador blog posts, my friend Tiffany reawakened my taste for punky, skater rock. Thus, one of the first things I did when back was pick up a handful of albums falling into that category. All Time Low came highly recommended from Tiffany, and I can see (hear) why. Their track "Weightless" seems to embody the genre. Taking Back Sunday and I had a fling one summer long ago. I picked that same album up, Where You Want To Be and it brought me back to those years. "Number Five With a Bullet" had a particularly large effect on me. Also, my good friend Serianna blessedly turned me on to Alt-J, a funky electronic band from England. "Breezeblocks" is one of those tracks I gravitate toward, almost subconsciously. Can't get enough of it. And finally, Jagwar Ma is a band I heard about through NPR. Groovy, semi-ambient electronic sound. Howlin is a fun listen, "Uncertainty" being one of the catchiest tracks.

Track List:

"Weightless" by All Time Low on Nothing Personal
"Number Five With a Bullet" by Taking Back Sunday on Where You Want To Be
"Breezeblocks" by Alt-J on An Awesome Wave
"Uncertainty" by Jagwar Ma on Howlin

What I'm Listening To--Jun

Enjoy.

Ecuador: Last words and a confession

This is going to be difficult to write, although still much easier than saying.

If you've been diligently keeping up with my day-by-day posts, stretching your patience like a rubber band about to snap, you, Faithful Reader, should have some idea of just how incredible my journey to South America was.

Some idea.

In truth, it's hard to put into words just how life-changing that trip was for me. My first time experiencing a culture radically different from America's. My first time even leaving the States. My first real hands-on medical experience. My first time seeing an underdeveloped part of the world, where internet is a luxury and not a necessity; where people don't have ambitions or strive for success in a dog-eat-dog fashion -- they work to survive, to provide for their family; they work because it's the only life they've ever known, spanning back hundreds, even thousands of years.

And the students...

If there's one thing you should have noticed in my pictures throughout the posts it's how diverse the group of students were. They came from all over the globe, and if they didn't, they had roots in Lebanon, or Malaysia, or Singapore, or Bolivia, or India, or...you get it...

But what amazed me the most about that group was that, despite everyone's aesthetic differences, despite their varying external qualities, their family tree, their region of origin, they all shared a core of traits: a passion and aptitude for helping others, and a desire to have fun doing it. They were college kids, just like me. They knew how to crack jokes, tell stories, strike up conversation, and, above all, they knew how to have a good time.

The students surpassed any expectations I may have had. Amiable, affable, charismatic, caring, bright, merry, intelligent, loving, empathetic, patient, and just downright fun. I never imagined that the people I would be working with would have as much impact on me as the cultural observation. But they did, oh, they did.

My gratitude for the Medlife experience was exacerbated by the critical juncture in my life at which the trip occurred.

And here comes my confession.

I didn't get into med school on my first try. Some of you know this. A lot of you don't. I apologize to those I've lied to or told half-truths. I had to save face, surely you understand that, but I should have been candid and open, faced facts, which is what I'm doing now.

Out of the 11 schools I applied to, only one decided to interview me -- UND. I had the grades. I had the MCAT score. I didn't have the clinical experience. But most importantly, I didn't have the mindset, and the interviewers could see that easily.

I've always been an arrogant person, ever since I was a kid. If I had something to brag about back then, I would without blinking. If I knew something someone else didn't, I'd tell them. I learned to control my tongue and actions in high school, but the arrogance was still very much alive.

Freshman year of college put me in my place a bit (the concept of studying was new to me). I survived, emerged a less selfish and more patient young man, and humbled...temporarily.

Soon enough, I climbed back on top of that pedestal of old. It came time to apply to med school, and there was little doubt in my mind I would be accepted somewhere, and I could have guaranteed  you I would get into UND.

But as each med school denied me an interview ("Thanks for applying, hope all goes well in future endeavors."), the splinter of doubt I'd had grew into a log. There was still UND, my fallback, my Plan J, my shoe-in school.

They didn't accept me either. When I went in to see why (where could I have possibly gone wrong?), the number one thing was lack of clinical experience. Understandable, I could see that. The second largest reason was my arrogance. At first I was taken aback by that, but then I thought about it and saw how it true it was. They called me out, saw me for what I was -- a conceited buffoon who thought he could charm his way into med school.

That was one of the rare cases where proving someone wrong made me feel terrible. I proved them wrong, alright, everyone who had told me "Oh, Seth, you'll get in for sure!" My friends. My family. My extended family. It seemed like everyone in Grand Forks would find out that Seth Zygarlicke didn't get into med school.

I had somewhat of a crisis then. Was medicine really what I wanted to do with my life? Should I even reapply? What am I going to tell people? I dreaded any thoughts of admitting my failure to people. How embarrassing. How shamefully embarrassing. I needed to leave. I needed get out of that town and escape all of its reminders of how I'd failed.

Then the Medlife email popped up in my inbox, in March. It sounded perfect. Not only would I be fleeing from Grand Forks, I'd also be gaining some medicinal experience. On top of it all, I'd have a fresh start with kids from all over the nation. They wouldn't know me, wouldn't know my shortcomings or past or reputation or anything. I eagerly signed up for the trip, though that eagerness diminished slightly when I checked the Medlife email list, saw how prestigious most of the schools were and became daunted, intimidated (the idea of spending a week with 20+ Harvard kids did not appeal to me). I had already been brought so low, now I was being handed a shovel and told to start digging.

I set out anyway, with a morsel of apprehension. But when I met Lauren in the Quito airport and found out she was from Harvard, any angst was eviscerated. Lauren? From Harvard? But, she's just like me...how's that possible? Throughout the week of clinic I noticed how everyone was eerily similar to me, but much more genuine. More authentic. Like being surrounded by 64 versions of my ideal self (except for this one guy from USC, he was kind of a douche, by most accounts).

Working with that diverse bunch motivated me, inspired me, changed me for the better. There's a load of psych research that's shown "Attitudes follow behavior." Acting like those kids, doing what they did, following their example, basking in their presence...behaving like them led my attitudes to change. I felt (and feel) more genuine. I felt (and feel) more humble. My desire for pursuing medicine was never so strong, so doubt-free as it was during that trip, and it's carried over to my everyday life (though it will take some work to maintain). I know for the first time in my life that this truly is what I want to do for the rest of my life.

In hindsight, I'm somewhat glad I wasn't accepted. In fact I'm very glad. If I had been accepted, I never would have gone to Ecuador, never would have met Lauren, or Lauren, or Lauren, or Eddie, or Pete, or Franchesca, or Tiffany, or Preston, Keon, Michael, Ryan, Austin, Sylvia....never would have been inspired, never would have been humbled, never would have so positively and fundamentally changed the way I approach the world.

I think the real reason it took me as long as it did to write about my trip there was this post. It's been in the back of my mind since I started writing the series. But it's out now, leaving me with a bittersweet aftertaste, as doing the right thing often does. Now, I'm just focused on preventing history from repeating itself.

Thanks for your understanding, Faithful Reader.

With July should also come a more regular blog schedule akin to the pre-Ecuador days.

¡Buenos días!

Ecuador: Sunday -- the equator and saying goodbye

Sorry this took so long to write. I was "busy" (finished the 7-book series The Dark Tower and started The Stand, both by Stephen King). This post was much like the events contained it, the "goodbye" that, after any amazing trip, comes with much hesitation and reluctance, a moment we deny and deny until we find ourselves sitting in our designated seats that carry us home. Writing about the partings, posting the pictures...it's very much like saying goodbye all over again and I can't help but put myself back into those places and experiences that have so impacted and sculpted me.

But, it's all written now, so here we go.

Sunday.

The last, most bittersweet day.

I fell asleep around 2:30 am and woke to my alarm at 5:30. Showered. Pete and Eddie also stirred. The plan was to get some breakfast at a nearby McDonald's, then take a shuttle or two to the Equator (about an hour drive). We had to do this so early because many of the students had to leave at 2 pm for the airport.

I went down to the lobby with an unexpectedly low amount of grog. A few of the students were running late. I just sat and talked for a bit until we all hit the streets for McDonald's.

Outside, the air smelled of rain, though the clouds withheld their drops, for the time being at least. We shuffled up to the doors of McDonald's, only to find them locked. It didn't open until 7 -- another 15 minutes. However, the manager inside saw us lingering hungrily by the doors and, no doubt seeing an opportunity for a large chunk of business, let us in "graciously."

We thanked him regardless and entered. I stared at the menu, my brain waging civil war over pancakes or a ham and egg sandwich. I decided on the sandwich and coffee and came to regret it once I saw Sylvia eat her doughy, syrupy stack in front of me. Oh well. I still had a cup of coffee that I sipped with a fervor that bordered lust.

Everyone consumed their meals merrily, waking up that much more after each bite and swig. Spirits ran high by the time we got back.

There was some delay in our transportation to the equator -- we didn't end up leaving until 9. Thus, Avery and Sharely would not be able to join us, since their shuttle to airport left at 11(?). The second and third Medlife causalities (not counting the USC group).

They saw us off to the equator and we said a premature goodbye. I took a picture with them.

Sharely on the left, Avery on the right. Bittersweet.

Off to the equator.

Got some selfy practice in on the way there.

An hour later we arrived. The clouds still refused to open up. We had to pay $3 to get in (wallet down to $1).

Inside the gate, we headed straight for line, admiring the scenery along the way. Two rows of sculpted, stone heads led us down the path, each with its own rectangular base of green grass trimmed with flowers. Various buildings circled the main park about which we walked, offering souvenirs, clothes, and food. In the distance, a pair of identical, almost perfectly triangular mountains kept each other company, blurred by the day's mist. A stately, brown brick monument loomed ahead, holding up a carved globe. Each of the four sides of the monument held a letter indicating the cardinal direction it faced -- N, S, E, W. Doorways sat its base, leading to a memorial room of sorts.

Flagpoles sporting unfamiliar flags formed a semicircle around the monument's surrounding landscape, bisected by a thin yellow line -- the equator. People congregated there, cameras in hand, capturing their friends and family straddling the line, hands on the hips. We snapped our own variations of the stance.

(Ishaan)

(Ishaan)

(Ishaan)

Andres "striking that Jesus pose" as he said.

Amalia leaning South.

Michael and Stewart leaning on each other.

Manji being boss.

Tug-o-Pete.

Equator push-ups. Courtesy of Ishaan.

Hemispheric bro-down.

Linin' up on the midline.

My fav.

After disassembling the pyramid, we figured enough pictures were taken there and went exploring. A sky blue building nearby housed a bug museum and we checked it out. I didn't take pictures (took a ten minute long video). Most of the bugs had very interesting qualities -- eerie camouflage, lustrous coating, striking color patterns, disgustingly large in size. I perused the glass casings on the wall, ensuring every bug got some screen time. The museum even allowed people to pay to have a tarantula crawl on them and take pictures. How they make any money doing this is beyond me.

We saw our fill of mandibles and chitin and continued on to the souvenir shops. Still very much broke, I simply followed others around, advising them on purchases, browsing, admiring, getting hungry. 

The shopping continued for about an hour (it was nearing 1:00 now, the hour we had to leave). I went with Ishaan, Andres, Amalia and Manji to a small café. Despite the low prices, I couldn't afford anything. Thankfully, my boy Ishaan spotted me $2 and bought me a delicious grilled sandwich. I munched, smiling.

Time to head back.

The clouds finally relented, though it more drizzled than rained. We boarded the vehicles back to the hotel. I sat by Manji and Qaren on the way back. Manji told me of his affection for basketball, something I didn't expect out of him. Fun times.

--As I sit writing this, I'm get confused on our timeline of that day. I know we woke early, but maybe it hadn't been 5:30. And I know we left for the equator later than anticipated (we were supposed to leave at 7 I think but that turned into 8 or 9). Let's say we left for the equator at like 8:00 (sounds right), and left the equator grounds at 12 (maybe), I'm pretty sure that a big group of us had to leave at 2 for their flight. So when we got back to the hotel, we had an hour to grab some lunch before seeing them off. Let's just say they had to leave at 2:30 and we got back from the equator at 1, giving us an hour and a half to eat. Sounds good to me.--

We went straight from the vehicles to the streets, roaming around for something to eat. Allegedly, a Pizza Hut could be found somewhere in the area. Indeed we found it, though Keon, Pete, and Eddie and I weren't really feeling pizza. Instead, we went back to a place we saw on the way there to grab a more authentic meal. 

The place was cheap. I ordered two items for less than $4.50. Eddie spotted me this time (bless him). I enjoyed their company as I enjoyed my food, trying to soak up the last few minutes of my time with Pete (he was part of that big departing group). 

I forget the name of this, but I want to say it was like fried yucca plant filled with cheese. Though I just Googled "yucca" and the images do not match up with the above.

These are fried plantains, a food similar to bananas only less sweet, I think. I don't know my foods that well.

Satisfied with the meal but concerned about my lack of funds (the shuttle to airport would cost $10 that I didn't have), I followed those three back to the hotel to say goodbye.

The whole group had beaten us there and filled the lobby, hugging, giggling, tearing up, and taking pictures. I quickly joined in and, although a bit sad, did my best to smile wide in my pictures with each of them.

Commence the slideshow:

Sylvia.

Mayumi.

Nicole.

Franchescha.

Qaren.

Preston (Brotein).

Jamie.

Manjinder.

Ryan, who (thankfully) was feeling better by then.

Derek.

Albert.

Ishaan.

Michael.

Supposed to be with just Pete, but we turned it into one final roommates pic.

Everyone piled into the vehicles while the drivers figured out a way for their luggage to fit. I seized the opportunity to take a few last minute selfies.

Shuttle #1.

Shuttle #2.

Alas, the moment had come for them to roll off. Those of us who had to stay behind waved and hollered and goodbyed/see-you-later-ed until the shuttles disappeared around a corner. Frowny face.

The Remainders.

We had to check out of our rooms at 1 pm, but the hotel staff let us rent out a room that we could store all of our luggage in. I joined the others in a respite there, considerably tired and emotionally wrought...well, maybe not wrought but a bit wrung out certainly. I plopped on one of the two beds alongside Eddie, Lauren, and Stew and took a much needed nap. We were out cold...

...as evidenced here in Andres's photo.

I woke about an hour or so later (around 5 o'clock; two hours until our shuttle left) to the not-so-muffled laughter of the others huddled around Andres's laptop on the second bed. I reached for my laptop and tinkered with uploading my pictures from trip, unsuccessfully. To my surprise, the internet at the hotel was usable, so I took advantage and browsed for a time.

My stirring caused Lauren to stir and we looked through some of the 800+ photos Andres had uploaded to Facebook so far (he ended up posting over 1,000). 6 o'clock rolled around and we walked back to that Pizza Hut for some dinner (I wasn't terribly hungry but I was terribly broke, mind you).

That was undoubtedly the classiest Pizza Hut I will ever dine at in my lifetime. Darkened wood, supple leather booths, dim atmospheric lighting emanating from sleek glass fixtures, fine cutlery and glassware presented in a specific orientation on each table -- that place made Olive Garden look like Sbarro. 

The menu matched the ambiance. Fortunately, the restaurant accepted credit cards, so I could order freely. Fraught with indecision, I settled on a tasty-looking salad and a flashy fruit juice (jugo natural). It was quite the drink. Tangy and pursing. 

Mmm....

...juicy.

My salad. Check out that presentation.

Our meals. Super classy. Pretty sure Eddie was the only one who ordered pizza. Note Andres reaching for his camera.

We munched down our exquisite meals and left, ending what would later be dubbed (by me, just now) "The Last Supper."

It had started to drizzle again when we exited Pizza Hut. We lugged our stuff down to the lobby. Only Andres, Tanya, Lauren, Eddie, and I would be leaving for the airport; Amalia, Keon, and Stew were staying one more night at a hostel. Amalia had plans to visit Costa Rica and Keon and Stew were going on a cruise around the Galapagos islands (jealous). I took some final pictures with them.

Keon.

Stew. Sucks how grainy these turned out.

Supposed to be of Amalia and I. Eddie fixed that.

The gentleman. And Eddie.

Another attempt at a pic with Amalia. Keon looks pretty fabulous.

Onto the shuttle we went, the five of us. The driver took us on this treacherous yet historic road down to the highway that wound the airport. He told Andres that that road had been built years ago, and the Ecuadorians of old would use it as a trade route, traverse it on foot. The narrow cobbled path twisted and turned jaggedly, all the while descending at a rapid pace. The going was faster than it should have been (our driver had a lot of confidence in driving ability) -- I guess we saved a bunch of time taking that route, averting traffic and stoplights.

The night was exceptionally dark. Lauren slept on my left. Eddie pondered on my right. Andres, amiable as ever, chatted up the driver in the passenger seat. Tanya sat alone in the far back. We pressed on through the night in a sort of reverent silence. 

An hour later we reached the airport. Andres and I were flying Delta, the other three on American or something. We split up, checked in and went through security. On the other side Andres and I looked for the others but gave up after a little while. I owed Andres a debt since he paid for my shuttle. To repay this, I told him I would purchase a bottle of booze for him from the decked out liquor store that was part of a miniature shopping mall. He decided on one, intending to gift it to his cousin or something, and I charged it to my credit card.

The others found us then and we briskly browsed the mini-mall's other wares (everything was very expensive). The UGA group had set up camp at my gate (the flight left for Atlanta). We talked with them for a bit and dropped our luggage off there before exploring the airport more. 

The Pizza Hut salad did little to fill me up; I thought it best to get a snack in me anyway before embarking on the 5.5 hour flight. At one of the eateries in the food court I found a large yogurt parfait that, to my astonishment, cost only $3. Delicious and satisfying.

Eddie got something to eat as well (I forget what). We spotted (smelled) a chocolate store within the concourse and went to investigate. Indeed a store sold strictly variations of South American cacao in the form of bars, hot chocolate mix, chocolates and other delectable looking goodies. One bar cost as low as $6. Too pricey. But, a part of the store we found instantly was a row of free samples of about 12 different types of chocolate. The samples were barely more than morsels of chocolate but we ate all 12 types, each more savory than the last, and felt satisfied.

We trudged back to our gate and luggage. The flight started boarding after a short while. We took a final round of pictures before Andres and I filed into the plane.

Tanya.

Lauren.

My man, Eddie.

Nothing says "goodbye" like one last group selfy.

Hugs. Goodbyes. A hint of tears (not in my eyes, I swear). Exhausted and forlorn, Andres and I boarded the plane. Turns out our seats weren't next to each other as we had previously thought (I mistakenly based that off of my other boarding pass, the one from Atlanta to Minneapolis). He sat a few rows ahead of me and I ended up sitting by one of the UGA girls, also named Lauren. Incredibly nice person. We talked of the trip for over an hour, reflecting, remembering, highlighting the best moments, making fun of the worst, and praising all of the wonderful people we treated and worked with.

The plane served us breakfast right after we leveled off in the air. Pancakes with orange juice, a biscuit, some water, another thing of yogurt. Filled me right up. No food coma came though, sadly. In the past 70 hours I had slept a total of 7. Not a good ratio. Yet sleep continued to elude me (plane seats are the opposite of conducive to napping). I decided to rewatch every video I had taken of the trip on my phone, a small, reminiscent smile creeping up on my face and remaining there as I relived those moments.

I must have dozed a little after that because the plane ride seemed to last only 3 hours. We landed. Shuffled out. Said goodbye to UGA Lauren. Met up with Andres. Lethargically checked in with customs. I went before Andres, carrying his booze, but as I passed the final checkpoint and turned to hand over the goods, I saw Andres being herded over to where "random" security checks were taking place. I waited for him to reemerge for what felt like an hour. When he did, I was surprised to see him calm and only slightly annoyed (I figured his obvious fatigue would predispose him to a large amount of anger after being spot-checked, but he was still his amiable self afterward). If he was angry, he hid it well.

I passed him the alcohol and we embraced. Took the final pictures of the trip -- selfies, naturally.

Andres -- Selfy Expert.

We parted. I hopped on the mini-metro that would take me to my gate. Somehow, I was hungry again. I walked around until I found a reasonably-priced bakery, ordered a sweet roll and a muffin. After eating, my brain finally relented and let me sleep. For an hour. I woke with my mouth open, slight amount of drool on my chin, and found my gate bustling with people, a few of which had, apparently, been watching me with some amusement. I caught up on some texts and emails (being back in the States allowed me to use data again) until the plane invited us on.

4 sleepless hours later, (about 10 am Monday morning) I was loading my luggage into my aunt's van and heading back to her house, suddenly forgetting the words I had been rehearsing all weekend.

End of Sunday/Monday.

End of the trip.

Check back for a wrap-up/final thoughts post later. Again, sorry this took so long.