There's probably no cheese on that island

People! THE HATCH. IT WAS OPENED.

Last night there was a little slice of heaven in my living room. Me, Phillip, our friend S, a table full of bread, cheese, wine and chocolate (the four major food groups), AND THE LOST SEASON PREMIERE. It was crazy good. It was so good. It was so good that I had to watch an entire episode of Entourage upstairs just to get my mind off crazy people who live in underground 1970s time capsules. It was so good that I made my sister (who didn't watch the premiere because she'd just returned from Italy and went to bed at 6 pm (an acceptable excuse for missing it)) watch the recording before I left for work, just so I could watch the first five minutes again. I must say, J.J. and Damon, I'm most definitely not disappointed.

S, who bought the season 1 DVD this summer, was thoroughly annoyed by the fact that we have to wait an entire week to find out what happens next. And, according to the internet, first we find out what happens to the guys on the raft before we go back to the hatch. And while Daniel Dae Kim is welcome on my television any time, I NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE HATCH.

Reasons my work day is completely shot: 1. Lost internet forums 2. People emailing me about Lost. (I already had TWO this morning.) 3. It's the last day of summer and it's NICE OUTSIDE. (See? My world doesn't COMPLETELY revolve around television.)

And now I'm going to tell you a funny story about S. Just because.

So one day last winter, S came over to my apartment. And we were just hanging out, but I could tell something was Up. She was unhappy about something and so I did what any good girlfriend would do for a friend in need, took her out for some retail therapy. We decided to go downtown and S said she would drive. Excellent!

However. You guys, her car smelled something awful. Like an entire football team worth of feet. Like something had died on the backseat three months ago. The kind of smell that makes your whole body wretch and convulse. Horrible. But! S didn't seem to notice. And the whole point was to cheer S up. Even if S had been in the most fabulous of moods, you don't really go around telling people that their vehicles stink to high heaven. So! I cracked a window and we took off.

After an entire afternoon of odor-free shopping, we descended into the parking garage and got back in the car. The stink, you can imagine, had not improved after sitting in a dank musty underground garage for hours. But that was ok. It was only a 10 minute ride home and then I'd be back to sweet clean fresh air. I could do it!

But S sat a moment before turning the car on and then looked at me with a peculiar expression. "Maggie," she said slowly, "does it reek in here?"

"Ummm," I stalled. "Kind of! Sort of! A little bit!"

S scrunched up her nose. "It DOES! It smells AWFUL in here!"

I shrugged. Mostly I just wanted her to turn on the car, roll down the windows and get going. You can only hold your breath for so long.

But S was still thinking. "Why does it smell so bad? Did I leave food in here or something?" She started rummaging around my feet and in the back seat. "No... there's nothing in here. WHAT IS THAT SMELL?"

"DUDE. It's YOUR CAR. I don't know. Let's GO!"

"But! Did it smell like this when we left your house?"

I decided there was no sugarcoating anything anymore. Besides, we'd contributed generously to the Seattle economy, something that lifted both of our moods. "Yes," I said flatly. "It did."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING!"

"Because!" I protested. "I didn't want to hurt your feelings!"

"But we could have DIED! From noxious gases!" S was frantic. "WHAT IS THAT SMELL?"

"How come you didn't smell anything when we left the house?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well," S said as she turned to search through the back seat again, "I smelled something, but it wasn't that bad. And I figured my car just needed to be cleaned out."

And then? She sat still in her seat and closed her eyes.

"What?"

"I know what it is."

"You know what it is?"

"Yes." She started up the car and started to pull out of the parking space.

"So what is it! Get it out of here!"

"I'll do it when I drop you off."

"What are you talking about? WHAT IS IT?"

S sighed. "Okay. So over Christmas break, when I went to visit my parents, I bought a big wheel of Brie. And I put in the trunk. And I don't think I ever took it out." She didn't look at me and calmly pulled out of the garage and onto the highway, rolling down her window as she went.

"You have a wheel of CHEESE in your TRUNK?"

S nodded.

"You've had a wheel of CHEESE in your TRUNK for a MONTH?"

"Well, in Europe they let it sit out."

"BUT NOT FOR A MONTH YOU WHACK JOB."

When we got back to my apartment, we opened the trunk and there it was- an entire rotting wheel of Brie. S, it must be said, will never be allowed to forget this incident. (Which is unlikely anyway, as she herself is the person who most enjoys telling this story.) But now the internet knows and my revenge, while it was slow coming, will be sweet.

But people! THE HATCH! Who do you think that guy IS?!