I'd like to think that I'm a trusting person. But as I boarded a chartered boat headed to Cow Island yesterday evening, I couldn't help but wonder if I wasn't unwittingly stepping into the soon-to-be-popular reality series: Survivor Cow Island.

110 people ditched work early yesterday to head over to the island (owned by Rippleffect) in honor of this month's Portland Green Drinks. The newly founded Kaleidoscope was sponsoring the event and figured it was the ideal place to tell people about the organization and the upcoming Kindle Conference. Or at least that's what they were leading us to believe...

While everyone shuffled aboard and took seats, made introductions or perhaps headed straight for the bar, a vague premonition started to materialize:

I saw crazed and half-starved Green Drinkers desperately tipping empty cups over their mouths for one last drop of Peak Organic. Others push for space inside the military battery. In the distance a splash - some one is attempting to swim back to Portland. We've been left on the island.

I surveyed the group on the boat, looking for signs of likeminded hesitation or anxiety. That guy up front looks disturbingly mellow. That girl doesn't seem to sense a thing. Those people in the corner are just chatting away unaware. Wow, is that fellow drunk already? And what is Kate putting on her head?

I appeared to be the only one with apprehension, which made me think I'd either a) gone entirely off the deep end, or b) was the only one appropriately utilizing my powers of intuition.

As the boat pulled away from the dock, I suddenly regretted not bringing a crossbow.

Once on island, I did my best to calm my imagination. But after we were spilt into groups for a tour I couldn't help but spot the obvious.

Island motto: For promoting island sustainability? Or an ominous warning?

Tables: for community discussion, eating and crafts? Or tribal council?

Fire pit: For warmth and nighttime camaraderie? Or to burn the evidence?

Zip line: For adventure? Or for dangling dissenters?

Yarn art: For artistic expression? Or entrapment?

Oven: For cooking food? Or for cooking people?

I pushed the notions down and did what I came there to do - mingle, drink some Peaks and enjoy the island. The group was jovial and our hosts were generous - and I had to admit that they didn't appear to be the devious, scheming types.

Eventually the sun began to set and I heard a shout, "The boat is back to pick us up." Hallelujah.

We collectively walked to the island dock, oohing over the sunset (and maybe breathing a welcome sigh of relief). There was the boat, motoring over.

But then, there goes the boat. Wait! Where is the boat going! Don't leave us! Please! I have too much to live for!

Oh, it's just positioning to dock. My bad.

Back to Portland we go, now oohing over the moon.

So I guess I'm a trusting person, but not really.

[If you want real information on the event, my colleague Avery Yale Kamila wrote what we'd call an "accurate" account of the evening.]