“Why don’t I start us off?” asked the oil-splattered sailor. “I’m Alan Hale, by the way. I’m a Mechanic here and help Ivan down in the engine room whenever he needs another pair of hands.”

  “Nice to meet you, Alan,” said Jonas, leaning forward to shake the extended hand. “Please be sure to let Ivan know that I appreciate him giving up his cabin for me while I was passed out.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t mind, but I’ll let him know. Anyway, I’ll show you how a properly harrowing survivor story should sound. Let me tell you about the time I was fishing up in Alaska a few years back and fell overboard.” Alan scooted forward slightly in his chair, loosening up his shoulders momentarily.

  “There we were, three childhood friends, sitting in a little fishing boat on the Kenai River in the middle of September. We’d done a chartered trip the year before, but it was a little boring and there were way too many other people around for our taste. So we decided to do it ourselves this time. Bobby arranged the plane tickets and Jack found us a boat and some fishing gear to rent. Got a good deal too, being pretty late in the season and all. And what was my job? Beer. My job was to bring enough beer to last the three of us for a week.”

  Everyone chuckled, enraptured by Alan’s storytelling.

  “Like I said, there we were, three days into the trip, just sitting on the river in the early morning light, drinking beers and fishing. The good stuff. Jack and Bobby had already caught a couple, but I wasn’t having any luck. Nothing. Not a nibble. We decided to head back and take a nap before trying again in the evening. The guys packed up their gear and went into the little cabin to drive the boat back to the lodge, but I wasn’t quite ready to give up yet. I sat down on the back of the boat, trailing my line in the water for shits and giggles, thinking I might finally catch something on the way.”

  “And did you?” asked Jonas expectantly when Alan paused dramatically.

  “I caught something, alright,” said Alan. “I was leaning over to grab another beer out of the cooler when my line caught on a log or something. Yanked me out of the boat ass over teakettle. Dropped myself right into the cold Alaskan river and just about passed out from the shock. By the time I came up sputtering and shivering our boat was around the bend and out of sight. I tried calling for Jack and Bobby but knew that I had to get out of the water as soon as possible. The current wasn’t moving too fast, so it was pretty simple to swim over to a small island in the middle of the river.”

  “Fuck,” said Jonas. “How’d you manage to survive that without getting frostbite or hypothermia or something?”

  “My situation was dangerous, sure, but it wasn’t quite as dire as you might think. September in Alaska isn’t warm, but it’s not below freezing or anything. Anyway, I made it to shore and hauled my ass out of the river and onto the shoreline. I tried yelling a few more times, but I couldn’t hear a single man-made sound, nothing but running water, birds, and bugs. Since immediate rescue didn’t seem likely, I knew I had to deal with my clothes first. Just because it wasn’t below freezing doesn’t mean I could just sit there in wet clothes and wait for my drunk friends to come back and find me.”

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  The sailors leaned forwards, knowing that Alan was getting to the good part of the story.

  “I quickly gathered some grasses, leaves, and fallen branches from the area around me and made a little fire by the river, lighting it with my trusty Zippo. I stripped down to my boxers and hung my clothes and boots by the edge of the fire to dry out a bit and sat down next to the fire, feeding more and more wood into it until I had a nice warm bonfire going. After maybe twenty minutes or so, I was feeling much better and could finally relax a little. There’s something incredibly freeing about being all alone out in the middle of nature. You know what I mean?”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily call it freeing so much as harrowing, but sure,” said Jonas.

  “Fair,” responded Alan. “I probably spent about an hour on that little beach when I finally heard something out of place. It started faint, but the sound of a boat motor quickly grew louder and louder until, finally, a little boat came around the bend in the river.”

  “Was it your friends?” asked an enraptured Jonas. “Did they realize you were missing and come back to rescue you?”

  “Nope, it was something even better than those two idiots,” answered Alan. “I grabbed my shirt and waved it around like a fucking lunatic trying to flag down the boat. When it came to a stop, I discovered that it was actually a pair of beautiful young women. At first, I thought they might be sisters or something, they looked so similar, but apparently there are plenty of beautiful, busty, blonde women living up there in Alaska.”

  Jonas chuckled, noting how similar Alan’s experience was to his island-time dreams.

  “So, there I was, standing on the beach by a nice bonfire, wearing nothing but my skivvies, chatting up these lovely ladies. Turns out they both worked at the resort we’d been staying at, and they graciously agreed to give me a ride back there. I put out the fire with a bucket they passed me, tossed my clothes onto their boat, and then climbed on board. They radioed back to the resort to let them know I didn’t need rescuing and then we spent the rest of the day getting better acquainted. Let’s just say that I didn’t make it back to my room in time for the second round of fishing, but I was definitely the luckiest fisherman out there that day.”

  Ending his story with a ribald wink and a knowing nod sent his audience off in peals of laughter. Jonas blushed slightly at the innuendo, but managed a hesitant chuckle to blend in.

  “See what I mean?” asked Roy once everyone quieted down again and Alan had leaned back in his seat. “His situation wasn’t half as dangerous or intense as yours must have been, but every man here was fully captivated. And that’s after we’ve all heard it plenty of times before. But he lured you in by painting a picture of the scene, added in a splash of danger, a bit of humor, and a dash of self-aware commentary. And most importantly, he carried that energy throughout. He didn’t just trail off as soon as he got to the most interesting parts.”

  “Trust me, son,” wheezed Fitzy, “you’re gonna’ have plenty of opportunities to tell your story once you get back to New York. You’ve just got to find a way to make it captivating. How else are you going to capture the eye of one of those fancy big city ladies? Or maybe even more than one, if you’d like to take after Alan over there,” he said with a chuckle.

  Jonas nodded thoughtfully, trying to consider how he could incorporate some of these notes into his own narrative.