If I were a castaway on Lost…

I know what I’ll be doing this summer. I’ll be watching 2 1/2 seasons worth of Lost episodes. I am completely hooked on this show. I only started watching it in January, so I’m not hooked like the bazillions of people who flooded ABC.com’s message boards with updated plot theories after Wednesday night’s Season 3 finale…just hooked enough to spend 2 hours last night scrolling through messages on said message boards. And now I’m writing this.

What can I say? The characters are imperfect, which makes them more interesting. The sci-fi/other-worldly twists add enough to the plot without being too hokey (although I missed the smoke creatures in the early seasons, so I may have to re-evaluate). The castaways include a bunch of hot guys. What’s not to like? The writers may have the remaining 3 seasons all mapped out, or they may be making it up as they go along. I don’t care. The show is fun to watch.

So I thought what if I were one of the castaways? Despite their shortcomings, all the surviving characters possess an inner strength or talent (or delusion that they have an inner strength or talent) that is used to help the group’s cause, as evidenced in the season finale. But I can’t snap a bad guy’s neck with my legs (or any other body parts), I don’t know how to jump-start a 30 year-old VW van, I’m horrible at lying, I drop practically everything I touch, and I couldn’t tiptoe through the jungle to sneak up on the bad guys without tripping on a vine and falling flat on my face.

Season Finale Bye-bye Castaway Spoiler Alert: BTW, note that while I may not be able to play the Beach Boys’ Good Vibrations on a keypad, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to fulfill my crackpot pal’s vision of me dying by locking myself into a chamber filling with water, even after I’ve done my part to save the group, and could use the time it takes to shut and lock the door with me on the inside to run out of the room and shut the door from the outside.


So how would I contribute to the Lost cause as a castaway? This is what I could come up with:

1. I would use my innate ability to pull useless celebrity trivia (is there any other kind?) out of the dusty recesses of my mind. I could confuse and distract Ben and The Others by reminding them of little known facts captured on Vh1’s I Love the 80’s series, or People’s list of 100 Most Beautiful People. Alternatively, my celebrity trivia would entertain my companions around the campfire each night. We could guess the names of celebrity babies, how many times J. Lo has been married or the age of Katie Couric’s boyfriend. Katie: back off and leave the 30-somethings for those of us WHO ARE ACTUALLY IN OUR 30’S.

2. I could use my decorating skills to enhance the living experience on the island. A little bit of berry stain to liven up those gray tent walls, artfully arranged shells and the fragrance of coconut oil would more than compensate for the fact that not one soul off the island has a clue how or where to find us. But fresh flowers always add a little something extra, don’t you think?

3. I could write memos to The Others using disturbing corporate venacular (i.e., utter gibberish) and passive, long-winded language to communicate our demands, negotiate peaceful solutions (bad for ratings) or, again, to confuse and distract:

Per your request, please find attached an initial draft of demands, as developed by the castaway team in conjunction with Acme Consulting, who facilitated recent brainstorming and story-boarding sessions designed to outline proposals, key considerations and recommendations on potential solutions for getting off this damn island. (Please refer to Attachment A for a detailed review of the selected story-boarding methodology.) … P.S. We used up our remaining supply of Post-its during the brainstorming sessions. Could you send some more over?

4. I may not be stupid enough to lock myself into a chamber filling with water, but I’m certainly stubborn/stupid enough to test my limits of handiness. Back on the mainland this may have meant that I’d push a 90 pound wood desktop up a flight of stairs so I could assemble the desk by myself. Or I’d try to move my old 100 pound TV on my own. Or I may have been inspired to paint the tippy-top corner of the wall in rooms with vaulted ceilings on a ladder that could use another six inches. (Note that I did NOT stand on the step that says “Do not stand on this step.”) You get the idea. I’m not sure what this means, but it could help. Maybe my castaway friends would let me build something cool to help get us off the island?! Maybe we could do a Trading Spaces kind of episode?!

5. I’d  sleep with a hot castaway guy. On second thought, there’s that unfortunate vibe on the island kills off pregnant women. Scratch #5. I’m not that stupid or desperate. Yet. It’s only Season 3. Talk to me during next year’s sweeps.

That’s all I’ve got.


8 thoughts on “If I were a castaway on Lost…

  1. Fun post, Susan! My family is addicted to Lost. I haven’t been able to get into it yet, but every September I vow to “get a show”! In this era when others are trying to limit their TV-intake, I’m trying to add to mine. I can’t seem to commit to anything out there right now…except, of course, A&E’s City Confidential.

    By the way, do you have the Lost t-shirts. My family loves them!

  2. I missed the boat on Lost (heh!), and like Judy I felt I needed a show to follow, so I picked up on “Heroes” instead. Different details, but similar multiple threads. Also, I was distinctly disappointed with this season’s conclusion. I try to keep up the suspension of disbelief but the writers seem to need to test me on it — espeically in season finales.

    I don’t know if I’d be useful in any way on Lost. I’m quite sure I’d have a lame superpower if I were on Heroes. I’d be “the girl who has incredibly dry skin and absorbs all moisture” or something. I’d be around for only one episode before some bad superperson would kill me. My only consolation would be that he wouldn’t get any benefit form my superpower either.

  3. Adam says:

    Glad to see you are developing a healthy obsession for Lost. I also was late to land onto the island but thanks to the help of many friends and countless hours of watching episode after episode (for two weeks) I am in the game now. I have come to find you are either a Lost fan or you are not. There is a great divide out there and it all comes down to lack of commitment. Be careful the friends you watch it with, some will pause the tivo and have to ask questions. If you find yourself in this situation make a mental note not to invite them again but also take the batteries from the remote when they go to refill their Darma-tini (similar to a flirt-tini).

    Cheers! The future of the Island it held with you.
    Your cousin,

  4. J and C, I rarely watch TV but sort of stumbled on Lost earlier this year. For the last few years no other show I liked turned out to be as good the next season (in my humble opinion)and/or it moved nights on me, and I lost track and interest. I guess I’ve always enjoyed the sci-fi/good guys rallying against evil kind of stuff — within reason. So far Lost is working for me, especially since the lines shift between who is “good” and who is “bad.” BTW, Cindy, your lame superpower made me laugh. Along those lines, maybe I could take the pale leg idea from my other post and blind the evil ones?

    Adam, glad to find a fellow Lostie. (I picked that up from the message boards.) I don’t have many friends, so I watch the show alone. 🙂 A Dharmatini sounds good right about now…

  5. Hi Susan, you’re cracking me up. I also try to evaluate how I’d do on certain shows and I have to say my final assessment is always “Oh yeah, the adrenaline, and fight to live stuff would kick in and I’d be lying my ass off snapping people’s necks just for fun. But mostly, having MS and being out of shape I might just throw up my hands and say “take me, baby. my work is done here…” Have a great weekend.


  6. Kathie, I was rather depressed when this was all I could come up with. I, too, am out of shape (which hit home today while I was trying on clothes – ugh), so I’m afraid my companions might say “take her, she can’t run as fast.”

  7. susan, that “take her, she can’t run as fast,” comment made me laugh out loud. ARe you working on book two? Not to be pushy or anything.

  8. K, please push! The second book’s opening chapter is still in my mind, not on paper. I’m trying to get through the last 20 pages of the first, and I seem to have come up with a million reasons how not to finish it. (Mainly it’s under the heading of “life happens.”) But I’m working on it. I’ll post more this week with an update, thanks for checking on me…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s