Shortly after that, a guy began introducing himself to everyone. I immediately forgot what his name was, and began referring to him as the Professor, probably because he was wearing a shirt with buttons on it. The Professor said that we would need to find a source of fresh water, because we would die if we did not drink water. I happily agreed with his reasoning, as the flight had left me pretty dehydrated. (Though not from drinking, I can happily report. I was actually sweating quite a bit under all those pillows.) Fortunately for us, there was a shallow stream a half mile or so from where we'd washed ashore. We were grateful to see it, me for multiple reasons.
"For the love of God, don't poop there you idiot!" the Professor yelled, beginning a pattern of him suddenly making arbitrary rules to stop me from doing something. "I can't even believe I have to tell this to you," he said, shaking his head at me. Everyone else looked pretty shocked too.
"I had a lot of beers last night," I offered. "You know what that does to the old pipes," I continued, thinking that was a pretty good excuse. "Does that make things better now?"
Judging by everyone's reaction, it did not.
Our food situation took a little while to get sorted out. After a day or so, one of the survivors began eating some of the nearby plants to see if they were edible. In the sense that they were easily eaten, the plants appeared to be edible, but when the guy's heart and lungs stopped working, opinions on the definition of "edible" split. I'd like to say that Wheels' sacrifice was worth it (I have of course forgotten his name), but when we found the grove of coconut trees just around the corner from the stream, well it actually made him look kind of dumb. Later on, gathered around the fire we'd talk and exchange stories about Wheels, pantomiming his final moments while others laughed and clapped.