My Kingdom for an Island
However, on a Saturday not long ago, a family function included sitting around a campfire. The first law of campfire sitting states the following: sitting around a campfire leads to discussions. You know, "What's the meaning of life?" "If you won the lottery, what would you buy?" "How come, no matter where I sit, the smoke always rises toward me?"
Well, on Saturday, the question came up, "If you were stranded on a desert island, what five items would you want with you?" To get more to the point, it was assumed that we'd eventually be rescued and survival was guaranteed. I thought she said "dessert" island, so I listed fork, spoon, knife, plate, and bowl.
Just kidding. I usually eat dessert with my fingers.
So I started wondering what would I want? I said I would want a balladeer. So many people get book deals and movie deals after such rescues. Gilligan got a television deal. That Cast Away guy got a volleyball. No one ever comes back from such an ordeal with a song or two. Those folks trapped in a mine for several days had several days to come up with a song and dance. Did they perform for the world after they were rescued? Nope. They had wasted their time on things like wills and farewell notes to loved ones and efforts to stay alive. And that, my friends, is why those miners will only ever be thought of as "heroes." Anyway, if I'm ever on a desert Island, I hope to parlay it to an album deal.
Continuing on the music theme, my thoughts turned to what kind of music or what albums I would bring along. (I think it's assumed that we get to plan ahead for a disaster.) I suppose it would be a great time to learn guitar. Until a string broke. I never know what albums I would bring to such an event. Do you take the best ones? No, because at the end of the itinerary is "be rescued." I don't want to come back from the desert island being tired of my favorite music. So then, maybe I should bring the worst music. No. The five items are to INCREASE comfort. Here's the music to choose when you're going to be stranded: take the guilty-pleasure albums you own. Hanson, Milli Vanilli, Britney Aguilera, "Abbey Road," etc. You know, the stuff you like but don't want to like or admit you like. Take them with, listen to them day and night, and burn out the desire to hear them. That's my advice.
As so often happens, the short discussion stuck in my craw and I was still thinking about it long after the discussion ended.
Then, a day or two later, it dawned on me. I'm on a desert island. Is there some reason I would even want to leave? No chance! Who needs the rat race when you're on a desert island with guaranteed survival. Especially, if you assume (as I do) that "guaranteed survival" means there's a television and a good pizza place nearby.
Not only am I not leaving, I'm planning to make money off the deal. Yes, come to my secluded resort. (How come it's never called a desert resort? Or a dessert resort?) Get away from the hustle and bustle of the work-a-day world.
Take any five items from our desert trading post so that you may enjoy your stay even more survivable. (Parkas, pots of stew, soy-based fish, and Ahmad Rashad are not available and are typically the reasons I don't write about family functions.)
So here are the five items we'll need for my stranded stay:
We'll need the deed to the island or whatever it takes to prove I own the island.
We'll need an airport for all of the airplanes carrying high-paying tourists trying to get away from it all. Plus, we need something for Tattoo to announce every week.
We'll need a hotel as a place for the tourists to stay. I'm sorry, we'll need a lodge as a place for the tourists to stay. Lodge is a fancier-schmancier word than hotel; better for the brochures.
A castle. Why? Hey, I ain't gonna be sleeping under a palm tree, buddy! But I think it would be safe to say that included in castle standard equipment would be a hammock, right? Right.
Finally, we would need a boat. (Pony not included.) Maybe a fleet of boats--a fleet is only one thing, isn't it? That would be great. What could be a better follow-up to a mid-day of sitting on a beach watching boats float by? An afternoon of sitting on a boat watching the shore float by, that's what.
So all would be well and good in my life as desert island survivor: food, shelter, entertainment, a guy running around yelling something about airplanes. That'd be the life. However, with the fads of the time, we would have to give a word of caution to all that set foot on our resort.
Beware of reality television crews.
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The opinions expressed here are solely those of the writer and do not neccessarily reflect those of the rest of the family.
© 2003, Mark Wentz