Skipper and Gilligan sat on the smallish decks of the smallish excursion boat, watching the legendary S.S. Gillis sink to the bottom of the ocean. They stared in silence for nearly an hour, not hearing the coastguard when he urged them to come into the control room out of the rain.
Soon, the mighty trade ship was gone completely.
When the two sailors felt the rain hitting them for the first time, though it had been pelting them for an hour, it felt light and even refreshing, like a calm spring shower. The two men stood on flimsy legs and turned toward the west, the direction the boat was heading. They both smiled a little, whimsical smile, seeing the most beautiful sight in the whole world: the sun was slicing down the water and into the horizon. They were beyond the storm.
--
Lang Pao Harbor was bustling with excitement when Philips, the coastguard, dropped them off there early the next morning. They had spent the night, sleeping quite soundly, in the remote coastguard station a mile offshore. Skipper had taken the beaten and worn couch; Gilligan had been more than happy to crash on the floor with a duffel bag for a pillow.
The following morning, the Skipper's objective was to get to the airport and to get on a commercial flight back to the states.
The Harbor was full of merchants, selling obscure and bizarre items. As Skipper and Gilligan walked down the strip, traders called to them from every booth. Some were Korean statements, some Chinese, but, surprisingly to Gilligan, most were in broken English.
"Suit for gentleman!"
"Fry dumpling!"
"Necklace for girlfriend!"
"Big pig!"
Gilligan nearly got taken on the pigs and almost bought one, but luckily the Skipper dragged him away. "You're not bringing any pigs on the plane!" he bellowed.
The odd couple managed to make it to the airport, only having to buy a map and a box of hand-fried donuts, which they didn't have to carry in their hands for too long.
Right beyond some low-cost housing and areas that could have been legally declared slums stood the out-of-place clean, Americanized airport. In its paved parking lots sat fleets of clean, Americanized cars.
Gilligan looked at the airport, then behind him at the run-down neighborhood, then back and forth again. "Did we just cross the Korea/California border?" he wondered.
The Skipper nodded. "It's like a whole different world," he agreed.
--
NoV: That's chapter seven! Tell me what you think!