"That was quite a spill, little buddy, are you all right?"
The person concerned for my wellbeing was a rather large man around 50, wearing a yachtsman's cap. I took a gamble with my reply, " Nothing appears to be broken, captain"
The man in blue looked puzzled, "Captain?, when did we get so formal, Gilligan. We better have you checked out by the professor."
I replied, "yeah, my head is still spinning."
Quantum leaping has forced me to pick up on fairly subtle nuances. I knew I was in a tropical area due to the balmy weather and the palm trees. The sand and foliage told me that we most likely on a South Pacific island.
My clothing was more ridiculous than my companion's. I was wearing a Red shirt, Khaki pants, sneakers, and an upside down sailor cap. I'm hoping that my companion and I are shipmates, not life mates.
We came into a clearing, and entered the strangest compound of grass huts. We first ran into two very attractive women preparing some sort of pastry dish.
"Hi Skipper, Gilligan", said the brunette. Well now, I have my name and my companions.
"Hello Mary Ann" my companion replied to the brunette and, "Ginger" with a tip of his hat to the redhead. The redhead was very familiar to me, but with my swiss-cheese memory, I couldn't place her.
We came to a hut marked "supply".
Skipper told the man inside "Professor, Gilligan fell out of a coconut tree again"
My new academic friend called to me "lets look, Gilligan, you may have a concussion.'
I replied to the professor. "No, I don't think it's a concussion, I'm just a little disoriented"
The professor laughed "what medical show did you get that from? Let me take a look, Gilligan"
Part of me wanted to shout out that I'm Sam Beckett MD, PhD, what cow college do you teach at… but I submitted to the examination, which was a crude checking of my LOC, pupils, and looking for lumps.
The professor instructed the skipper, "keep an eye on him."
Skipper led me back to the hut that I assume was ours. We passed a middle-aged couple sipping drinks out of some sort of gourds with umbrellas on them. The man also seemed very familiar.
"You going to be OK, Gilligan?" asked the skipper.
"Sure, Skipper, as long as I have some time to relax" I replied while attempting to master the intricacy of a bunk bed type hammock. I was tempted to ask why they didn't bother to make two separate hammocks, but decided against it.
"Ok, I'll leave you alone for a bit while I go chop some wood." Skipper said while grabbing a hatchet.
Almost on cue, somebody I actually did know appeared to walk out of a foot locker. As soon as the captain was gone, I addressed my longtime associate that I could only see. "Al, what took you so long!"
Rear Admiral Al Calavicci, USN answered with " Sam, this place has some weird magnetic force around it. The date is Thursday, April 1, 1965, you are on an island later to be named Howell Island after the man who purchased it, who happens to be on the island with you right now. You're Willy Gilligan, 24, former mate on the ill fated SS Minnow."
I interjected, "I remember now, they were shipwrecked here almost for 15 years. I recognized Howell, and I think some B movie actress"
Al looked a little indignant "Ginger Grant was a star." He hit his multicolored hand control that squeeked. " There were 7 castaways: There was Gilligan; the Skipper, Jonas Grumby, a retired Navy Captain; The millionaire industrialist, Thurston Howell; and his wife, Lovey; the movie star, Grant; Professor and author from Ohio, Roy Hinkley Ph.D.; and the farm girl from Kansas, Mary Anne Summers
After Al was done with his monologue, I asked "am I here to get them off of the island?"
Al was still fiddling with the machine when he answered "Ziggy seems to think that there's a 70 percent possibility that's what you are supposed to do. I'm going to get more information." And on that statement, Al vanished. Somehow, I got the feeling that his "research" involved Ginger and Mary Ann.