This week's strip is one of my favorites. "Castaways," of course, refers to both the fact of being stranded on an island, and of discarded inhibitions, regrets, etc. It was inspired by my trip to Roatan--a beachy paradise if I ever saw one--in January. Most visitors only stay on the island for a day (as cruise travelers), but there is a small population of expats who rent cottages by the week or the month. (There aren't hotels or condos--yet.) These adoptive Hondurans spend their days drinking in the oceanfront bars, playing in the water, and holding cookouts on the beach at night. So I started to wonder: Who are these people? Where did they come from, and, more importantly, what did they come here to escape? And so, this story.

And now, here's some totally gratuitous pics from Roatan:

This story happens someplace like this.


Salva Vida, Honduras' only locally brewed beer. There was a giant inflatable one of these on the dock as I sailed away from the island.


Stopped for a cold one at the Barefeet Bar.


That's island living for you.


The warmest, clearest, bluest stuff on earth.