by Sloane Tanen
Like I said, Jonah Baron was a teen idol who just happened to be Joe Baronstein’s illegitimate son. They were both so famous in their own right that their relationship wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when you thought of either one of them—sort of like Nicholas Cage being Francis Ford Coppola’s nephew or Miley Cyrus being the daughter of Billy Ray—but it was a fact nonetheless. I saw an interview with Barbara Walters where Joe said he was proud of Jonah’s success and that the two were working out their “differences.” Differences? Can you imagine when Joe Baronstein, America’s hero, had to tell his wife of twenty years that Christian pop star Jonah Baron was his son from an affair he’d had with a makeup artist seventeen years before? And that she had the paternity tests to prove it.
As I said, I don’t go in for the boy bands (or the Jesus sound), but it’s believed Jonah is the second coming of Justin Timberlake. They even call his fans “disciples.” Scary. At seventeen, he’d already opened for Westlife and Day26, which was impressive. But Joe Baronstein was Jonah’s father, and I think that might have helped just a little, right? And spare me the “I changed my last name and I did it on my own” crap you read about in People. I mean, explain Kate Hudson to me, please? Has she made a good movie since Almost Famous?
Anyway, in his defense, Jonah Baron wrote all his own music, and he had actually done a lot of missionary work. But, more importantly, he was rumored to be a virgin, complete with a promise ring and everything. I was impressed with his position on the subject. Unlike myself, he certainly wasn’t a virgin for lack of opportunity. That was for sure. He was really cute in person. Standing next to his father, the resemblance was uncanny…except Jonah was young, blond, and didn’t have the big honker. My crush started shifting a little. Then I noticed that Copilot Ted Montgomery and stewardess Erin were shaking everybody’s hands and waving good-bye. Where the hell were they going?
J:
Update:
A) Jonah Baron is here too. You know, THE VIRGIN…like us. He’s cute and is flying in the cockpit with Joe. Weird to see them together.
B) This means Erin and the copilot will not be on board. Somebody feels it’s safe to let Joe fly us solo the last leg of the trip. Anyway, I smell too bad and am too tired to worry about it.
C) I’ll text when we land.
X, F.
I sent the message and turned off my phone. The flying time to Madagascar was two hours and fifty-four minutes. I was asleep before we reached cruising altitude.
PART TWO:
WELCOME TO HELL
“I think celebrities suck.”
—Eddie Vedder
I Hate You, Joe Baronstein
I’ve heard it said that after a trauma, a person’s sense of time and perception gets fuzzy. Maybe that’s what happened to me. I’m still not sure. I’ll just tell you what happened as I remember it. That’s the best I can do.
All I know is that by the time we finally got everyone out of the ocean and back onto the landing strip, the plane was almost gone. The only visible sign was the back end, which was slowly disappearing into the sea like a whale’s tail. We all stared silently as the water swallowed the whole thing up, and then it was as if there had never been a plane at all.
“You idiot!” Milan shrieked, soaking wet and pulling a long platinum extension right out of her head. “If my iPod is ruined, I’ll fucking kill you,” she yelled at Joe, frantically searching through her wet Balenciaga bag for undamaged goods.
“Your iPod?” Eve barked incredulously. “I almost drowned! And you pushed me out of the way, you little monster.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Milan said, wringing her tank top out and shivering. “You didn’t almost drown. We were three feet from land the whole time.” Milan looked comedic standing there in her wet fur vest with pieces of her long hair missing from the ears down. She was like a gorgeous Amazonian rodent looking for cheese as she began scrambling to collect her things. She picked up a travel-size hair gel and threw it at Eve.
“Why don’t you have something to eat and chill out!”
“Jesus Christ, Jesus, Jesus Christ” is all Joe said as he stared into the placid ocean at the spot where the plane used to be. His leg was bleeding.
“Where is everybody?” Chaz asked, looking around for paparazzi or a rescue team at the very least. I turned around and took in the scene. It was a good question. Where was everybody? We were standing on some kind of elevated patch of land. The ocean was below us, and the “landing strip,” which was behind us, was nothing but an overgrown dirt road. In the distance was a thick mass of what looked like gigantic bonsai trees that sprang from the dry earth unexpectedly. The only sign of human life was an ancient-looking control tower, which was lying on its side, making crackling noises. That must have been the initial crash.
“I thought you knew how to fly a plane!” Milan yelled at Joe. “Is landing on actual land out of your area of expertise?”
“Hey!” Joe barked at Milan. “Back off. I can’t think.”
“Obviously.”
“Where are we?” Eve asked, looking around. “I thought we landed.” Her giant head was poking out of the white poncho, which was stretched out like a long dress, making her look like a drowned Q-tip. She couldn’t have weighed ninety pounds wet.
“Oh my God, maybe we’re dead!” Chaz squealed.
“Oh shut up!” Milan shouted.
“Oh Jesus,” Joe moaned again, his head buried in his hands.
Maybe I was dead, I thought, as I absorbed the wet and disheveled faces of Milan Amberson, Eve Larkin, Jonah Baron, Joe Baronstein, and Cisco Parker. Or maybe I was dreaming. It was uncanny. I mean, what was I doing here with these people? What had happened?
The plane wheels had touched the ground. Joe announced our arrival from the cockpit and that it was safe to turn on electronic equipment. Everyone turned on their cell phones except Eve, who was shakily applying her last lipstick coat in preparation for the photographers. The runway was so bumpy it felt like riding a road bike over gravel. I honestly thought I might puke so I reached for the barf bag just in case. I tucked my phone inside the barf bag so I’d know where they both were in an emergency. I rolled the bundle into my back pocket. We were still taxiing along when Milan unbuckled her seat belt and got up to use the bathroom. That’s when I felt the bump and then watched her (like it was in slow-motion) as the plane suddenly stopped hard and she flew backward toward the cockpit door. And then the whole plane slowly tipped forward and felt like it was sliding. When I opened my eyes, the plane had leveled out again, but it was rocking back and forth like we were on a boat. I definitely got the impression that we were floating. I actually think we landed at one end of the “runway” and then taxied right over the other side and straight into the ocean.
What was weird was that none of it was particularly scary. There was no screaming or anything. It was more disorienting, like when your knees buckle and you’re suddenly not standing anymore. It wasn’t until I looked out the window and saw all the water that I freaked. The plane was in the water! Everyone was silent except Milan.
“What the hell is going on?” she squeaked from a fetal position, curled up against the cockpit door.
I was waiting for somebody to do something, but nobody moved. They all just sat in their seats like we were in a movie and the director was about to yell, “Cut!” I finally unbuckled my seat belt and ran to the cockpit. Milan rolled aside to let me pass, and I pushed the door open hard.
“Mr. Baronstein!” I yelled, as I took in the scene. There was blood all over the dashboard and on the window. “Oh my God! Are you OK? Oh my God.”
“He’s fine,” Jonah said. “It’s just his knee,” he said, frowning. “He was trying to block his face from the impact.”
“Well, open the freakin’ emergency doors!” I yelled. They both stared at me like they were trying to place my face or something.
“Hey, you!” I shrieked at Joe. “Open the doors—the plane is sinking.”
“Get out!” I shouted at Joe. Jonah didn’t seem to notice or care that his father was semicatatonic.
“I’ve got to send an ELT,” I heard Joe say weakly.
“Dad, just get up. Let’s go,” Jonah instructed, reluctantly helping his dad out of the cockpit.
Eve, Milan, and Chaz were bickering as they attempted to push the emergency exit door up and open. The plane was still floating, so we had plenty of air and time to all get out. With the help of Joe and Jonah, the door finally released, but not before water started slowly flooding into the plane.
“I’ve got to get my stuff,” Milan said as she started dragging her feet through the water back toward her seat.
“Forget your stuff,” I yelled. “Just get out. Everyone, get out.” Milan ignored me and went back for her purse, pushing Eve and Chaz against the door in the process. For whatever reason, Cisco still had his seat belt on and was looking out the window.
“Hey, Thor!” Milan said as she passed him on the way back to her bag. “Get up!” He just sat there. America’s ten-million-dollar-a-picture action hero just sat there doing absolutely nada. Jonah unbuckled Cisco’s belt and managed to get him out of the plane, but not before Eve and I were out and swimming toward the nearby bluff. My shoes nearly slipped off in the water.
The plane was only about eight feet from the base of the island, so it didn’t feel like we were in any real danger of drowning. What was odd was that the water was deep and there was no beach the way there always is in the movies. The island sprouted out of the water like a little iceberg. Eve and I hovered at the slimy base waiting for the others. We saw Milan slide out of the plane and start swimming (holding her bag above her head) until she pulled herself up onto the wing of the slowly sinking plane. With her legs straddling the wing like a saddle, she began trying to throw the contents of her purse up and over the steep side of the bluff. Her glitter BlackBerry bounced off the side of the small cliff and landed back in the water, where it promptly sunk.
“Shit!” she cried. “That’s my whole life.”
Jonah yelled at Milan to get off the wing as her added weight—minimal as it was—was causing the plane to submerge faster, and Cisco was still inside. In retrospect, seeing as the imminent danger was indeed minimal, Milan probably had the right idea. I mean, we easily could have gotten all of our stuff out before the plane went under. But I think we all assumed getting to land safely was more important than saving our electronics and makeup bags. At least, I thought so before I saw fat Chaz doggy paddling to shore, resting his laptop on the plane seat he was using as a floatation device.
As I said, the water around the island was deep. There was no beach. The only way to climb up the side of the landing strip was to hug it and push with your legs like a horny monkey. I know it’s nuts, but I was actually lucid enough to want everyone else to go first so that nobody (especially Cisco) could see me in the humiliating posture that Academy Award-winner Eve Larkin was assuming. It was ugly. I saw that Jonah was still making his way to the rock with Cisco on his back. (Can Cisco Parker not swim?) I insisted that Chaz go next so that he might help pull the rest of us up. Why I thought he was equipped for such a job I have no idea. The sight of his fat ass and chubby legs humping the mountainside was hilarious. Milan laughed unabashedly.
“Screw you!” Chaz cried as he clutched the cliff and pushed off with his pink, shoeless feet. I started laughing too. He turned around to give us the finger, and his laptop went crashing into the water. I heard a little cry escape his lips.
Milan managed to scale the side only slightly more gracefully, and I followed her in the hopes that I could get to the top before Cisco could see me. The last one up the bluff was Jonah, who made it quickly. Halfway up he looked back at his guitar, which was floating out to sea. Tears were streaming down his face. I considered going after it but changed my mind. What if there were sharks or something? He could afford to buy a new one.
About an hour later, by the time we were all out of the water, the plane was gone. “Where are we?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Joe said, dragging his palms down the sides of his face. “I think we’re in the wrong place.”
“What do you mean we’re in the wrong place?” Jonah asked.
“I mean, I think I landed on the wrong island.”
The Injustice Collectors
As my mother would say, I think we were all in a state of shock. We were nowhere near where we were supposed to be. There wasn’t even another island in sight. We had been due to land at Andapa Airport at around 9:30 that morning. I think we “landed,” albeit in the water, about an hour later than that. It took us a while to get everyone safely out of the plane and onto the runway. By the time any of us were able to even begin to process our situation, it must have been around midday. The sun was blindingly bright, but the air was surprisingly cool and dry.
I reached in my back pocket and was beyond relieved to feel that my phone, rolled in the barf bag, was still there. God bless the barf bag. The keyboard was still working! I tried to call my mom, but there was definitely no reception seeing as we were obviously like five hundred thousand miles out of range. Before I knew what I was doing, I was writing a text to Jordan. It didn’t matter that she’d never get the message. It was a habit.
“Is this some kind of a joke?” Cisco asked after he’d collected his wits. “Is Ashton Kutcher hiding behind a tree with a camera crew?”
“If only there were a tree,” Eve said breathlessly, draping her wet poncho around her unkempt black hair like a hat to protect her face from the blazing sun. She reminded me of a carefully wrapped gift that had been savagely opened by a small child.
“Over there,” Jonah said, pointing to the thick mass of trees about a hundred yards off. The topography was like a receding hairline, with us gathered on the bald part.
Milan was either too high or too dumb to realize anything was seriously amiss. She was soaking up the sun like she was at a hotel pool in South Beach. Chaz was staring at her round butt like it was something on display at the deli counter. If it weren’t so obvious he were gay, I’m sure she would have filed a sexual harassment suit.
Jonah had driven a long stick into the dirt and was staring at it for about twenty minutes. When a shadow slowly appeared, he put down another stick. I was hypnotized watching him.
“What are you doing?” I finally asked.
“Figuring out where we are,” he said, placing another stick at the end point of the shadow. “That’s east,” he said, pointing to the right, “and that’s west.”
“Really, how can you tell?”
“I’ll fill you in later,” he said in a beefy tone that made me want to laugh. He was obviously really impressed with himself. Not that it wasn’t impressive.
“East of what?” Chaz asked. “The Beverly Center? I mean, what possible difference does it make which way is east if we don’t even know where the hell we are?”
“I’m going to have a look around,” Jonah announced, ignoring Chaz. “Stay put.”
“Whatever you say, Marco Polo,” Chaz sighed, shamelessly inserting a fat finger in his nose.
“Let me know if you find anything good in there,” Jonah said as he turned to leave.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Chaz saluted.
Things felt a bit leaderless without Jonah. Joe had been poking around the old control tower. I watched him standing with his hands on his hips walking around it in circles. He looked suspiciously like my dad the time the car broke down last summer and he lifted up the hood and proceeded to stare at the engine blankly, waiting for the transmission to start dictating operating instructions. My guess was that Joe w
as trying to avoid our group, as there was little question he was responsible for the mess we seemed to be in now. My crush had turned to dust, needless to say. He finally limped back over to us looking less than optimistic.
“You can’t fix it, can you?” Chaz asked, looking up at Joe, using his chubby hand to block out the bright sun. I heard a tiny bit of well-timed desperation in his voice.
“Of course he can’t fix it,” Milan mumbled. “It’s older than he is.” She was lying on her stomach with her tank top hiked up to avoid tan lines. Her head was resting on her balled-up, drenched fur vest, which looked like a dead porcupine.
“It’s true,” Joe said. “I don’t even know what it is. That thing is from another century.”
“What the hell, man?” Cisco asked. “Is this for real? I thought you knew what you were doing!” He was holding his wet T-shirt against the deepening bruise he had on his left cheek.
“So did I,” Joe said, hanging his head.
“What happened?” Cisco asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“How ’bout a guess then?” Milan asked.
“There was some kind of electrical problem,” Joe started. “The radar froze up on me. I didn’t want to alarm you by making an announcement. Since I could easily make out the runway and the control tower, I just figured I’d bring her down by instinct.” He paused. “And I did, you know. I did land her safely.”
“In the ocean,” Milan said flatly.
“I had no way to know how short the runway was,” Joe said, staring at Milan with a glazed expression. “There was no way to know how short that runway was.”