I noticed some fishing tackle and a deep-sea rod that must have been salvaged from the wreck of the Minnow. I figured going out fishing would be a good excuse to have a chat with Al without being accused of talking to my self.

"Going to the ol' fishing hole?" Al asked rhetorically. For a holographic admiral, he had a penchant for stating the obvious.

I gathered the fishing gear and headed out of the hut.

For only being here a few months, the castaways had quite an elaborate village with an intricate well-developed system of paths. Following one of the paths, I past by the Howells, who were playing croquet of all things.

I greeted them with, "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Howell."

Mr. Howell replied, "Ho there boy, are you going fishing?" This must be the day for stating the obvious.

Mrs. Howell added, "Good luck… try to catch a sturgeon, it has been forever since we've had caviar." I'm beginning to think Gilligan, the Skipper, and Mary Ann are the only normal people on this island.

Mr. Howell answered for me, "I believe, Lovey, that caviar comes from water much colder than this."

Al interjected with, "The Howells actually put up a very exclusive Club Med type resort up on this island after he was rescued. The Castaways, as the vacation hideaway was called, attracted a wide range of the rich and famous from Ginger's movie star friends to the Harlem Globetrotters."

I continued on my way down the path, until I came upon a salt-water lagoon. I found some lures in the tackle box, and cast the line.

"You look like you could use I beer," Al jokingly offered.

"I wish you could hand me one," I laughed.

Al added, "The Howells seemed to be getting something out what they were drinking out of those gourds."

I theorized, "Probably some moonshine rum they made here on the island, its not hard. Or maybe knowing them, they had a case of cognac on the Minnow. Exactly how long have they been here?"

All slammed on his multicolored handset, "About seven months, but you're right, they've really set in roots here."

I agreed, "its like a small city. How is my counterpart?"

Al answered, "He's fine, the real Gilligan is up in the waiting room. He thinks he's in a UFO. The kid really does read a lot of comic books. "

Al got distracted all of the sudden. I looked up and saw why. Ginger and Mary Ann were swimming in the lagoon wearing bikini's. They waved to me. They seemed kind of puzzled by my interest in their swimming, as if Gilligan is not normally interested in the form of two of the most attractive women he could possibly hope to meet.

As if he was reading my mind, Al said "She is beautiful."

I contributed, "and she makes a mean coconut cream pie."

Al looked at me curiously "who are you talking about?"

"Mary Ann," I replied, "who are you referring to?"

"Ginger Grant," of course he said wistfully, "her movies helped me make it through my teen years. Actually, I remember when the Minnow was lost in '64. I was lieutenant j.g. stationed at NAS Miramar in San Diego at the time. I wanted to fly out in a F-4 Phantom and search for her myself. Ginger was a star, but when she finally was rescued in 1978, she was more of a nostalgia act. If we can get her back to Hollywood while she's still in her prime, the publicity of the shipwreck will make her a superstar."

I smiled, "somehow I don't think I leaped here to make Ginger Grant a super star."

The sun was starting to go down. Since I still wasn't completely sure of my way, or what may be lurking in the jungle, I figured I better get to camp. I didn't catch any fish, so I guess I didn't have Gilligan's luck. But I did see a couple of bathing beauties, so maybe a little good fortune did rub off.