Sawyer: How did you get here, to the Island?
Cooper: Island? Okay. I'm driving down I-10 through Tallahassee when bam, somebody slams into the back of my car. I go right into the divider at seventy miles an hour. The next thing I know, the paramedics are strapping me to a gurney, stuffing me into the back of an ambulance and one of them actually smiles at me as he pops the I.V. in my arm. And then, nothing. Just black. And the next thing I know, I wake up in a dark room tied up, gag in my mouth, and when the door opens, I'm looking up at the same man I threw out a window, John Locke. My dead son.
Sawyer: And he's dead cause you threw him out a window?
Cooper: No, he survived that, but it paralyzed him - permanently. He's dead because the plane he was flying on crashed in the Pacific.
Sawyer: Well I got bad news for ya pops, cause I was on that plane with your son. He sure as hell wasn't crippled. And we didn't crash in the Pacific, we crashed here on this island.
Cooper: You sure it's an island?
Sawyer: Well, what else is it?
Cooper: Little hot for heaven isn't it?
Sawyer: (Sarcastically) Oh, okay, so we're dead?
Cooper: They found your plane on the bottom of the ocean. One minute I'm in a car wreck and the next minute I'm in a pirate ship in the middle of the jungle. If this isn't hell, friend, then where are we?