This is a story about Jack and Diane

I don’t want to get in trouble here, but I have to tell you about this newlywed couple staying here. Let’s say his name is Jack and her name is Diane. Jack and Diane, who, I would guess, are around 25, 26, are from Australia and are here on their honeymoon. Let’s say that Diane’s daddy owns a car dealership or a chain of auto supply stores or something like that (it doesn’t matter) and Jack is a mechanic who works for her dad. Both Jack and Diane are very gregarious. In fact, when I first came over to Davui on the resort’s taxi boat, Jack reached in to a plastic bag and asked me if I’d like to share a beer with him. This is before he said, “Hello, my name is Jack and this is my wife Diane,” or before I’d even introduced myself.

I took the beer. When Marguarite, who was sitting up on the front of the boat, saw that I’d gotten a beer from Jack, she asked him if she could have one as well. Jack gave her one. The thing is, that was his last beer. And Jack likes his beer. And his vodka. And…well, just about any cocktail. (A little birdy at the resort told me that the first night Jack and Diane were here, their bar bill was over $250 at dinner. And they weren’t drinking any wine.)

Jack seems to have some sort of hormonal imbalance which, I think, probably explains his non-stop talking and his hyper-mania. Evidently he needs to inject himself with some sort of hormone or something every day and damn if he didn’t forget to bring the stuff with him on his honeymoon. Which is a real bitch because there aren’t any pharmacies on Davui (and even if he went back over to the mainland—an hour’s journey, roundtrip—he’d still need a doctor’s prescription, wouldn’t he?).

I like Jack. And I feel a little sorry for Diane. As I said, Jack likes to drink and he’s hyper-active. Which means he’ll get up at the crack of dawn, have an OJ and vodka (or two) with his breakfast, and then head off, by himself, for a day of deep-sea fishing or the like. Leaving Diane (who seems to sleep until one or two in the afternoon) on her own. But you know what? When Jack finally does get back to the resort and if Diane is awake, they seem to really enjoy each other’s company. She’ll sit on Jacky’s lap and they’ll giggle as he wedges his hand in between her knees and they both get shit-face. It’s kind of sweet. In a very strange way.

Jack adores the staff here at the Royal Davui (I do, too). He doesn’t just ask them what their names are. He sits down with them, offers to buy them a beer, and asks them tons of questions (of course, most Fijians, and certainly all the Fijians at the Royal Davui, don’t drink, but I’m not sure Jack knows that; he’s just trying to be friendly).

The Fijians don’t drink but they do like their kava. Late at night, after all the guests have wandered off to their villas (which they call vales on this island; vah-le being the Fijian word for home), the men get together and have a cup or two of kava. And Jack, I hear, joins them every night. Staying up until two or three in the morning. And then there he is, first thing in the morning, washing his scrambled eggs down with vodka and orange juice while his bride sleeps until noon.

Oh yeah, life goes on. Long after the thrill of livin’ is gone. Hold on to sixteen as long as you can. Changes come around real soon. Make us women and men.