Naked in Dangerous Places - Cash Peters [27]
I quickly rattled off the top ten “danger” items, reserving the biggest emphasis for my lifelong archenemy. “The worst one of all,” I said, “the one I have to steer clear of at all costs, is oil. My body can't process oil or grease or fat.”
“Why? What happens if you eat oil?”
“My cheeks and forehead break out in hives and I get sick.”
It's true. Take two close-up photos, one of the moon's surface and another of my face after I've eaten a bucket of fried chicken, and I defy even NASA to tell which one is which. It's horrific. I can't go outside for days. Bane of my entire existence.
“Oh. Okay.” With a worried “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” look, Fat Kid returned to checking e-mails.
“You know what?” I said, sensing I might have lost his interest. “Why don't I draw you up a list of things I can't eat?”
“Yeah, thanks,” he said, typing, “why don't you?” And from there we quickly moved on. “Now, about shooting the pilot…”
1 Who among us, on a really bad night, hasn't almost fallen unconscious struggling through “fun-packed” home improvement shows called Celebrity Tools or Getting Hammered? Or transparently sycophantic travel shows called Backpakistan (and its sequel Backpakoslovakia), in which some witless boob in shorts and a T-shirt hikes across whole continents without once being amusing, genuine, intelligent, insightful, funny, original, entertaining, or informative? Or game shows called Matrimony, Acrimony, Alimony, or Battle of the Millionaire Amputees, or, better still, Phrenetic! “Blindfolded experts try to identify celebrities by the bumps on their heads, with hilarious consequences.” And the weird thing is, if you dare point out to producers or network executives that their shows are stupid, contemptible swill, they stare at you like you're the stupid one and you've simply failed to catch the many finer nuances of their truly excellent, groundbreaking, populist output.
6
Joe Versus a Volcano
After a great night's sleep at the hotel, I wake up with the larks. Or whatever the Vanuatan equivalent of larks is. Piglets, probably. Early anyway. Before five.
Following a filling breakfast of toast, tea, and grilled fish in the restaurant—plus another large bowl of raw grated cabbage, which I don't order; it just appears at the table—I drag on the same skanky clothes I wore yesterday1 and make my way to the crew truck.
We have a new member joining our happy little band today. Joe, he's called, from the Vanuatan Tourism Bureau, a delightfully pleasant ni-Van native with a shy smile and a whispery voice that brushes the ears like warm velour. Joe is bilingual, in the sense that he has a solid command of both English and Bislama-which-is-really-just-English-too-but-spoken-funny. His job on the show is to oil the wheels behind the scenes: help translate during interviews, explain to bystanders about the show, and, if needs be, to step in and bring calm to troubled waters in the event that the non-TV guy transgresses cultural boundaries and inadvertently offends the locals. Oh, as if!
First stop: a typical Tanna bush market.
The one Joe has chosen for us sits in a flat, stony recess at the roadside overlooking a narrow bay, with a dazzling beach and ocean view that, were I given to cliché, I would probably describe as idyllic. By the time we arrive, the place is rocking. People are sitting beneath the trees, chatting, gossiping. Kids play; teenagers, too cool to mix with their parents—some things are the same the world over—lounge in the hot sun, sheltering their eyes with cupped hands as they joke among themselves.
The main focus of everyone's attention seems to be a man with a bullhorn who is on his feet addressing the crowd, most of whom look like they rue the day that bullhorns went on sale in Vanuatu.
Eric sidles up to me. “So this is the idea.” Feeling the heat, he runs a sweaty hand through his hair and adjusts his sunglasses up his nose. “It's the next day now. You've just left Yakel and you find yourself here in the market.”
“You mean I just stumble upon the market?”