Indiana Jones and the Island of Intellectual Asphyxiation

So here's the deal. You're on this strange island (you probably got there thinking there'd be island booty and lots of it) and have been informed that you're to be inducted into the slave-labor force. Now you're thinking, thats not necessarily a bad thing because there are different slave-duties, ranging from cleaning the green stuff that grows under the fridge to being used to propogate the species. so, here you are, having resigned yourself to being a slave, and looking forward to being assigned that task of entertaining the nubile young things on the island who need help with getting suntan lotion applied and other initiations into womanhood. sure, like that happens...and you're unceremoniously told that you'll be providing the use of your family jewels for the purpose of generating electricity while helping overweight middle-aged men put their jockstraps on. So, you do the only sane thing, you run! But then careful analysis tells you that you can't go too many places on an island. (hey! dont blame my genes for the sub-100 IQ). Tearing down dark alleys, dodging poison-tipped arrows, vaulting over electrified fences (ok, sue me for the anachronism), all in the hope of finding that secret passageway that leads back to civilzation. But as blood-sugar levels reach new lows, the shadows of the slave-drivers falling on your ankles...its geting desperate, just as you're steeling yourself to the feel naked copper wires coming in contact with parts which were meant to be treated with much more affection, your hands find a lever, and pull. A whirl of revolving stone slabs and yes! you're out of reach of those maniacal slave-drivers...you're free!

But wait, now all you see is dense foliage and a cacophony of sounds...you now don't know what's out there...and whats more...you're alone.You grin...