Crash Course

In the first days after our plane crashed we tempered anxieties by musing over being a real life Lost. Or Castaway. Or Most Dangerous Game. Or perhaps we’ll run into Dr. Moreau? Nothing good happens on deserted islands. But growling stomachs, and animals, dampened fiery imaginations and soon enough we resigned ourselves to making camp, starting a fire, and foraging and hunting. Eventually, I think, we stopped concerning ourselves with predicting a rescue that was surely to arrive any minute, yet didn’t.

You asked if there is anything I miss about it. Yes, there is. But not what you’d expect.