Rampage Island

A vacation that started out as a simple minded trip turned suddenly into an intense journey through and unfamiliar island. As the plan glided on the shimmering glass like mirror of an ocean, I felt content. I was finally away from it, the forty hours a week of working at a home improvement store, plus six colleges classes, and pile of homework were about to be the farthest things from my stressed mind. It was time to relax and that was what my intentions honestly were to do. As I stepped off the plan and looked at the dock sign I felt myself shiver. The sign read, “Rhetorically Correct.” I silenced my thoughts of suppressed memories from my second night of this English class I once took. Could I remember what exactly Rhetoric was?

My boyfriend Jon gently grabbed my hand and a very quiet gentleman led the way. It was our tour guide for the next three days. Who in their right mind goes to an uninhabited island for spring break? Rhetorically I will not answer my own question, thought with a giggle. My thoughts however were interrupted by our tour guide who said, “Welcome to Ramage Island, as you probably have figured out already it’s a rhetorically correct place at all times.” Jon just smiled at me and we followed the tour guide to a little grass hut. We were to rest for a bit and get ready for our long three day hike to the other side of the island for that is where the plane would eventually be picking us up at.

About an hour later our tour guide came for us and told us we would be hiking down Anti-rhetoric valley. I could not help but think of Dante’s Inferno, “was this hell.” There was no running water, no inside restroom, and worst of all the plane had left already. Garnished by two water bottles each, a back pack full of rope, granola bars, a pair of sneakers each, extra set of clothes, and a first aid kit; we were on our way to rhetorical analysis.

Our gifted tour guide who had yet to introduce himself led the way very fiercely. He chopped the branches and grass in the path way with a rustic knife that read “interpretation” down the side of it. “There will be four challenges in the valley that you will have to overcome to get through,” he said with a snickering grin. Jon laughed in amusement and I slowly half smiled. The first challenge was straight in front of us, a small lake that we desperately needed to cross. A very solemnly voice came out of no where and said, “Rhetoric is a pseudoscience (Ramage 2).” I pondered back to that one class I had gone to, was rhetoric real? “Yes, Rhetoric is alive and well,” I proclaimed. I knew in the back of my mind they were all awaiting my explanation. “It’s alive and well,” I boasted, “It’s all around us each and everyday in how we present ourselves, speak, and write.”

Then I almost fainted, the lake parted as if I was Moses and we began to walk through it. Once across the lake I realized that I really did believe in miracles. We were now miles away from our original landing site and knew that there was a long mission ahead of us. Jon then politely began to inquiry about our tour guide, “where are you from, what is your name?” Our tour guide smiled and introduced himself finally, “I’m John D. Ramage, this island was named after me,” he boasted. “I’m the only person on this island and I’m your guide through rhetoric”. Astonished, I screamed for help. Jon held me tightly for a moment. Ramage then continued, “If you do not listen to me and follow my strict lackadaisical instructions you will be lost here for months trying to find your way out of rhetoric. Along your way you will go through Anti-rhetoric valley, up Identity Mountain, and down Readymade slope. Pay attention and you will succeed on your long journey; if you don’t you’ll be lost in rhetorical confusion for life.”

Well, I guess it was time to continue following our esteemed leader/tour guide. We followed Rampage for three hour through the bitter wilderness before I needed to take a tiny break. Rampage said, “Keep up slacker, and if you need a break answer a question for a short relief from the hike. Who are you, Rachel?” I pondered for a moment in my head and thought of something to make my presence known. Then before I could open my mouth he said, “Identity is contained with in and is shaped by help from social interactions: break’s over.” Frustrated I made a trite face at him and continued to sit. The next thing I knew Ramage was gone. For an hour we looked for him concernedly, and then we realized I had not listened to him. This was test and we were going to pass and our next obstacle was starring us straight in the face. A poisonous snake pit lied in front of us, we no where else for us to go we strategically tried to plan a course of action.

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