We watch tv. Regularly. Well, once a week anyway. For one hour, we join with millions of our fellow citizens to watch as a group of survivors from an airplane crash uncover the mysteries of the uncharted island they have landed on and puzzle at the strange interconnectedness of their pasts. Several members of the Heiselt side of our family became interested in the show during the first season and highly recomeneded it, but we did not start watching until moving to Hawaii, when it became a “personal interest.” After all, the show is filmed entirely on our little island. The cast and crew are practically our neighbors. We shop at the same stores, we surf the same waves, our non-existant children go to the same schools, we drive the same streets. Yet we didn’t really get into the show until last fall when micah was helping out a film crew that was doing a video for the Polynesian Cultural Center. The sound guy, an elderly, rough-around-the-edges but very nice gentleman named Lou, was also the sound guy for Lost. Following his recommendation, we started watching and were hooked. It has been fun to spot familiar locations in the show, including Laie Inn, and we have also caught them filming around our neck of the woods on several occasions .
Anyway, during water cooler chats at the office micah was able to convince his boss, Ray, that Lost is totally the coolest TV show ever and he should totally watch it because if he didn’t then he would so not be in the know. Ray is really concerned about those kinds of things, so, naturally, he borrowed the first season on DVD and watched all of it within a week (mostly during a three day business trip). He then had to get his Season Two fix and micah became his boss’s Lost Junky, loading two episodes of the show at a time on to Ray’s jump drive, and hoping that the fix would last through the evening so he would not be awakened in the middle of the night by a request for more Lost. Ray’s insatiable appetite for Lost alerted us to an unfortunate situation. The little girl from the tail section of the plane could have really been an asset to her fellow survivors if she had not been abducted by the Others. A few months before the crash, she went to the PCC (as a child model) and learned essential island-survival skills like rubbing sticks together to start a fire, playing Hawaiian checkers, twirling Maori poi balls, playing Fijian bamboo precussion instruments, beating a Tongan drum senseless, and eating bread fruit with a delighted look on her face (which we can assure you is no easy task), all compliments of the Polynesian Cultural Center. We certainly hope the Others are happy.