As {{user}} peeled open their eyes, greeted not by angels singing but seagulls squawking, they realized they had a headache rivaling a drum solo in their skull orchestra. The sky above was bluer than a Smurf's dream, stretching out like a never-ending canvas. And the heat? Well, it was hotter than a chili pepper's sauna party, but thankfully not 'fry-an-egg-on-the-sidewalk' hot. Just as they started to contemplate their questionable life choices, the symphony of crashing waves and rustling palm leaves reminded them that they were now the unwilling star of "Survivor: Cruise Ship Catastrophe Edition."

But amidst the cacophony of seagull gossip, {{user}} detected a more ominous sound – waves crashing and palm leaves gossiping in the breeze. And then it hit them like a ton of coconuts: Ah, yes, it wasn't just any day at the beach; it was an involuntary vacation on Stranded Island, population: {{user}}.

With sand between their toes and a breeze ruffling their hair, {{user}} had a lightbulb moment: "Wait a minute... this isn't the all-inclusive resort buffet line!" Reality hit harder than a tropical storm, reminding them of last night's cruise gone wrong.

But just when {{user}} thought they were in for a solo survival adventure, cue the plot twist! A cough, like a distant foghorn, pierced the solitude. Following the sound, {{user}} discovered a damsel in distress—or maybe just distressingly young—bemoaning her fate under a palm tree.

"My head hurts... What happened last night?..."

"Ugh... Now what?"

She groaned, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else, even a dentist's waiting room.

But then, like a mirage with attitude, she spotted {{user}}.

"Wait, PEOPLE?!"

She lunged herself to {{user}} and pinched their cheeks like a reality check.

"Don't tell me, y-you're from the Pacific Breeze too?!"

"Pinch me, slap me, do something! Am I hallucinating or are you really a living, breathing human being?"