July 20th, 2001 That 70's Island, part II By Gary Tour of the Island signs along The 70's trail Soon it was time to meet the people that would be going on a tour of the island with us. There was me, the unimportant white male of average build with brown hair that for some reason always gets chosen as the title role because it's thought that the audience relates to that type best. Good ol' "me," destined to be the ever-uninteresting Mario from Mario Bros., the mascot/hero of his adventure, despite being frightfully more boring than any of the other characters. I was this excursion's Sam Neil. Then, obviously, there as Marc, the overzealous John Hammond of the expedition. We also had Timb, who's undying love of everything 80's made him endlessly skeptical about the idea in the first place. Sparks flew between Marc and Timb for the whole trip - I'm not giving any of the story away by saying that much, no siree bob... The 80's versus the 70's, in one Ford Explorer - talk amongst yourselves... Caster was there, too. Ray Caster. Nerd. The guy who never goes outside. The only thing he's ever seen grow is his collection of internet porn. SPUNKY was there, too, but he disappeared before the tour, telling us we were wasting our time and that the 70's were over. He said he'd prefer the 50's or the 60's to the 70's, and he wasn't even sure about that, so he hung back with all the cute girls at the visitor center. Trixie was DYING to see all the old fashions again, so she jumped in the back hatch, polaroid camera at the ready. We made off down The 70's Trail, known better to the staff of Isla Nixon as "The Long and Winding Road," which was considered "approved language" based on that the song was written and made famous by The Beatles in the summer of 1970. Gary: Hey Marc? What are all these sign out here for? Marc: You mean like the Bellbottoms, Converse, and Afro signs? Timb: Yeah, I'm curious about that myself... Marc: Well, we felt badly naming the tribes, so think of it like... townships. Gary: That makes sense to me Timb: Cool. If this was an 80's island, I'd make really sweet names Marc: It's the 70's, damn you Gary: Like what Timby? Timb: Well, like "Synthesizer," and... "Debbie Gibson," and... hmmm, "Strap-on" Gary: Strap-on? How is that descriptive of the 80's? Timb: I don't know, I liked strap-ons in the 80's Gary: Sure, we all did, but they aren't "descriptive" of the 80's Timb: Yeah, I guess not. Okay, how about if it says: "Denim Strap-on?" Gary: Denim!? Hahhahaaa!! Caster: Hahahhaahaa! Too funny! I actually HAVE one of those! Timb: ... Gary: ... Marc: ... Caster: I said dumb stuff again, right? Timb: In contrast, that's the coolest thing you've said this whole trip Caster: Really!? Thank God. You guys had me worried there... It was at this point that I in the passenger seat gave Marc a blank stare. Marc, who was driving returned the confused look, and in doing so accidentally steered off the road, went into a swerving panic taking out several small trees, luckily got back on the road going the wrong way, and went on driving as though nothing had happened - 2 miles later he made a play at cursing our maps for being "the shittiest things he's ever used," then swore he would "fire that bastard map-maker kid" when we got back. We turned around at a Kodak Film Stop, and we were on our way again. No one said anything about it, in case he decided to defend his honor by doing it all again on purpose this time. A Sick Tribesman We stopped off at Township ABBA (Marc's pet project) to see how everything was going with the tribe there. Things were looking great, and very 70's. They had built schools, a firehouse, and even a hospital, and they were all looking more and more like the bellbottomed, hair-over-the-ears days that all of us, even Timb longed to see once more. It was so bizarre. We stopped in on the hospital to see what kind of procedures were being done. Of course it was anywhere between 20 and 30 years behind our own medicines, but compared to what they'd had before, Marc felt no qualms about not giving them the rest of our medical knowledge. "They must deal with what they have he said, in a very matter-of-fact, dictator-like way. It was at once awe-inspiring and kind of annoying. We stopped into one of the rooms. It was all orange and green. Marc: Hello young man, what's the trouble? boy: It's my throat sir Marc: And what has the doctor done about your sore throat? boy: He said it was a conspiracy and that Five-O was gonna hear about it Marc: What? boy: Then he kissed one of the nurses and ran out with a surfboard Timb: Dude, this whacked out behavior is your 70's? Marc: I'm sure it's just an isolated incident Just then a different doctor entered, stoned, told us he looooved us sooo much, then stumbled out into the hallway. We could hear him as his voice trailed into the distance singing the theme to Three's Company. Marcus Welby, M.D. Timb: Shit man, your decade is seriously fucked up Marc: Honestly, this means nothing. It's all coincidental errant behavior Gary: Well, I did some research before we came here. These people aren't acting anything like 1970's Marcus Welby, M.D. Timb: Yeah, they aren't acting anything like 1970's Medical Center either. Marc: ...? Timb: What? Hey, I did a little research, too In the hallway we could hear doctors shouting orders as a seriously injured person was wheeled in - "We've got a low LOC with an upper thoracic puncture, possible knife, definite internal bleeding - No breath sounds, hyperresonant on the left side. He's got a tension pneumo. I want a normal saline and drop a tube. BP's 80 over 40 and falling - I want paddles ready. Give me 50cc's adensine, stat! We all looked at each other thinking the same thing. There was no way they could know how to spew trauma lingo like that without someone piping an illegal ER feed from the mainland. ABBA Pavillion Signage Marc: Holy damn! Timb: Whoa, how do they know that shit! Gary: Maybe stray signals catching your island's satellite receiver? Marc: We don't use receivers, too much chance of outside contamination Gary: What could it be then? Marc: I don't know! The tv feeds come from the main paddock and run to individual way stations via underground cable. It's all played off digital laser disc Gary: Then why did all the tv's look like shit earlier? Marc: We programmed the signals with decay to simulate poorer technology Gary: Cool! And why did I have to adjust the rabbit ear antenna in my room? Marc: Again, all computer controlled. The bad reception is a simulation. Timb: This rogue info is seriously gonna poison your idea dude - we gotta fix it, fast! Marc: I know. We have ideas flying around here that didn't exist in the 70's Gary: I knew you couldn't contain the 70's. Timb: The 90's finds a way... Marc: Shut up man! Kid, why don't you go home and watch Buck Rogers - you'll be fine boy: Dy-no-MITE! Marc: Well, at least not everyone's been affected... C'mon - let's get out of here - Join us tomorrow for part III - Read Part 1 of this Adventure