Day 4 - First Class
This morning I was hit with a flash of inspiration. Just as I was preparing for my adventure inland to find the other half of the plane, I had a great idea for my beach house/shelter. Rather than build something at the top of the beach as I had decided yesterday, I think I'll just do some renovations to the makeshift shelter I'm using now - the arse of the plane. I mean, it's solid, waterproof and quite comfy with all the pillows. And let's face it I can't be stuffed building one from scratch.
So with that decision made I set out to locate first class.
I wasn't sure where to begin, the jungle looked so thick and over grown it would be hard to get through it. Luckily where the front of the plane had hit the tree line, an opening had been created. And as I ventured into the opening I discovered that it had actually cleared quite a path. And within five minutes I was standing in what had previously been the cockpit.
Well that was easy. I suddenly felt quite stupid for not having found this earlier. I mean, it's taken me the better part of a week to venture 100m.
But something wasn't right. There was no sign of life, which I kind of expected, but there was no sign of death either, which I also expected. I felt unsettled. There was a silence that seemed unnatural. I had noticed it as I was approaching the wreckage but didn't really think anything of it. I was abruptly overcome with fear and paranoia as the realization hit, "This was too easy." I started looking around wildly for signs of little tribesmen with fima's through their noses. I then heard a sound that was terrifyingly like the sound of drums. And what was worse, they were getting loader and faster.
With that I ran like a hysterical schoolgirl back to the beach, never once chancing a backward glance. But as I ran the sound got louder and faster and closer. As I neared the beach I had an insane image of some crazed tribal drummer leaping from branch to branch, keeping pace and a perfect beat. I burst out into the clearing, dived to the ground and rolled to see what was behind me. After a few seconds of heavy breathing it dawned on me that it was just my heart beat. I still had some earplugs in from the night before and had completely forgotten. I felt like a complete dickhead, but felt reassured that no one was around to see.
After I caught me breathe and disposed of the ear plugs I ventured back to the front portion of the plane. I was still curious about the lack of physical evidence of the plane ever actually containing any people. After some searching however I did find signs of injury, some blood spatters on sharp edges of the torn fuselage. I guessed the occupants must have been thrown clear before the wreckage reached land. I searched all the compartments still intact but couldn't find my luggage. I did find plenty of food and lots of other useful stuff, I think I'll even drag some of the structure out onto the beach and build an annex on the arse hut.
I think that's what I'll call it, the arse of the plane, my Arsehut. Fuck it, no one is here to correct me. I can make up any words I like. Four days and I'm already starting to lose it!
So with that decision made I set out to locate first class.
I wasn't sure where to begin, the jungle looked so thick and over grown it would be hard to get through it. Luckily where the front of the plane had hit the tree line, an opening had been created. And as I ventured into the opening I discovered that it had actually cleared quite a path. And within five minutes I was standing in what had previously been the cockpit.
Well that was easy. I suddenly felt quite stupid for not having found this earlier. I mean, it's taken me the better part of a week to venture 100m.
But something wasn't right. There was no sign of life, which I kind of expected, but there was no sign of death either, which I also expected. I felt unsettled. There was a silence that seemed unnatural. I had noticed it as I was approaching the wreckage but didn't really think anything of it. I was abruptly overcome with fear and paranoia as the realization hit, "This was too easy." I started looking around wildly for signs of little tribesmen with fima's through their noses. I then heard a sound that was terrifyingly like the sound of drums. And what was worse, they were getting loader and faster.
With that I ran like a hysterical schoolgirl back to the beach, never once chancing a backward glance. But as I ran the sound got louder and faster and closer. As I neared the beach I had an insane image of some crazed tribal drummer leaping from branch to branch, keeping pace and a perfect beat. I burst out into the clearing, dived to the ground and rolled to see what was behind me. After a few seconds of heavy breathing it dawned on me that it was just my heart beat. I still had some earplugs in from the night before and had completely forgotten. I felt like a complete dickhead, but felt reassured that no one was around to see.
After I caught me breathe and disposed of the ear plugs I ventured back to the front portion of the plane. I was still curious about the lack of physical evidence of the plane ever actually containing any people. After some searching however I did find signs of injury, some blood spatters on sharp edges of the torn fuselage. I guessed the occupants must have been thrown clear before the wreckage reached land. I searched all the compartments still intact but couldn't find my luggage. I did find plenty of food and lots of other useful stuff, I think I'll even drag some of the structure out onto the beach and build an annex on the arse hut.
I think that's what I'll call it, the arse of the plane, my Arsehut. Fuck it, no one is here to correct me. I can make up any words I like. Four days and I'm already starting to lose it!
posted by JuanNhill at
10:14 PM
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