Nick Bartolotta

Let's go back to Italian Prison, where we sat together and complained about only getting a $5,000 raise the following year. Then let's go to Manado, where we knew absolutely nobody and you were teaching Paul Walker-obsessed girls how to speak English.

You have always made the world feel smaller. From Chicago to the other side of the planet, you are the person I want in the window seat next to me.

You taught me your love for airplanes — the sounds, the takeoffs, the way you can name a jet before it even passes overhead. We never made it out plane spotting, but every flight together has felt like the next best thing.

You have always been someone I could lean on when things went sideways and someone I could celebrate with when everything went right. Your honesty and conviction have made me a stronger person.

I will always think of you as a brother.