Yes, I’m leaving Saba before my expected departure date.
But no tears, no recriminations please. “Just” two months in Paradise is not to be sneezed at. You may recall the initial impetus for this adventure was the invitation by Patrick and Sophie to come help them out at El Momo on a few small projects they had around the place. That would justify letting me spend the summer here as a freeloader, er, non-paying guest. It was after that offer came that I dreamed up the whole scheme of writing a play while I was on the island which I would then take on the road when I returned home to the states.
Well, Patrick and Sophie are indeed terrific hosts and innkeepers. So much so that they were headhunted away to another cottage complex here on Saba. Five minutes away. But one of the things they were not going to negotiate for in their new position was their friend, you know that guy who’s been hanging around town since May, the one who sings occasionally at Saboake on Fridays? Yeah, that one. Well, he’s coming along with us to stay in one of the cabins for free.
Uh, no. I don’t think so.
And since I didn’t particularly want to see if I could stay on here at El Momo when the owner—whom I’ve never met--returns form Holland, I thought, “cue exit music and… curtain.”
Which is a nice transition to a second, and more compelling reason for my premature am-scray: my “Canned Ham” script is at the point where I don’t want to do any more work on it until I settle on a director and involve them in additional revisions. And I’m very anxious to do that. (The italics are mine.) In my head, since completing the second draft, my late-August departure date has been slowly creeping forward the more I have been thinking about the show. What can I say? I’m happy about what I’ve gotten down on paper and I’m excited about getting the thing on its feet.
(Speaking of which, I’ll be getting it on its knees next week when I give an informal reading of the script to a tiny group of my Saba friends. Should be interesting.)
So, I’ll be on the 9:30 A.M. flight from Saba Airport next Friday, the 17th and back home later that evening. Since my stay here has been perfect… flawless… the nes plus ultra of étés, I could almost be considered prudent by quitting while I’m ahead.
Knowing all this was in the works, I sang a couple of extra songs last night at Sabaoke. “I Dig Rock and Roll Music” went over well but it turns out “Twilight Time” starts on a stratospheric note that I did not quite hit. No Platter, I. Wanting to end big, I asked Wolfgang, who owns the place and runs Saboake, if I could join him in a duet on one of his signature tunes. We rocked the house with “Mack the Knife.”
“Look out old Mackie is back!”