You would think.
Instead, we end up with all this goofy stuff as the vodka flows and the days simmer on. Two days ago, it was toilet paper. My fault. I returned from a potty break bemoaning my purchase of 12 rolls of "Rex," apparently the king of Soviet-era-issue tushy torture. The stuff is stiff, turns gray in the bowl and disintegrates on contact with ... anything.
"Yeah, and then you get those dingleberries," said Lynn Rae, and we were off on another riff of unlikely sharing and laughter.
This was no anomaly. In the past our topics have included lizard poop, the dietary preferences of ants and mosquitos, colonoscopy stories, and asparagus pee (don't pretend you don't understand). It's like we're living in one long "Seinfeld" episode.
So I guess when my family and friends imagine me here "wasting away again in Margaritaville" ... they're right.
On the other hand, these odd conversations do feed my fiction. As we laugh and talk about nothing, I pick up "what if" ideas for short stories, learn island life details that add authenticity to my writing and hear ways of saying things that are unique to these islands, like "just me one" and "the boat didn't reach."
These tidbits alone are worth a few vodkas with friends. And all that crazy stuff with the smelly pee and long post-operative farts? Well, that's just for belly laughs (which are good for you) and another reason to come back.