A three-hour cruise resulted in a never-ending hell for Gilligan, The Skipper, too, the millionaire and his wife, a movie star, the Professor and Mary Ann.

The fateful trip started at a tropic port on April 17, 1967, aboard a tiny ship.

The mate was a mighty sailing man, the Skipper brave and sure, five passengers set sail that day, for a three-hour tour.

A three-hour tour.

The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed, if not for the courage of the fearless crew, The Minnow would be lost.

The Minnow would be lost.

The Castaways landed in a tropic island nest. No phones, no lights, no motor cars–– not a single luxury, like Robinson Crusoe, it’s primitive as can be.

And today, after fifty long, excruciatingly painful years, The Skipper finally pulled his first mate aside and told him the truth.

“Gilligan,” he said, “we’re never going to be saved. We’re on an island. It’s surrounded by water. Big water. Ocean water. Trucks can’t drive here. In short, little buddy, we’re screwed! Totally screwed.”

Gilligan sobbed, and then the brave men drowned their sorrows in coconut liquor.