Canned Laughter

I had several expectations of my time in Fiji. These included but were not limited to learning Fijian Sign Language, making new friends (blah blah blah), getting awesomely tanned, becoming desensitised to tropical paradises, and increasing my chances of developing skin cancer. Predictably, most of these things have occurred to some degree already. There have been some surprises as well. For instance, I was not expecting to learn that you don’t actually have to iron t-shirts. Nor was I expecting to go blonde. So very blonde. But the biggest shock to me so far I think has been the staggering amount of TV and movies I’ve sunk my time into. I mean, I didn’t even think I’d have a TV. Or that choc tops could be so delicious still, even after the 30^th one (I’m probably not even exaggerating, I’ve seen a lot of movies here, and you can’t not have a choc top when you go. It’s sacrelicious). It’s gotten to the point now where the days of the week are now synonymous with TV shows. Taco Tuesday may be a thing of the past, but we have Wire Wednesday instead. And of course Sucky Cinema Sunday is practically patented. And now that I’ve just realised how much fun alliteration can be, I’m tempted to institute 30 Rock Thursday. Who’s with me?

Then there are all those shows that don’t fit easily into the working week. Here I’m of course referring to such classics as How I Met Your Mother, Community, Modern Family, and, most recently popularised by yours truly, Suits (I even managed to export that to the Samoan volunteers. Such is my power). Let’s not forget West Wing, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, The Good Wife, Shameless (yes, I know, I haven’t watched it yet, but it’s on my to-do list), and Black Books. And then there are the movies. From Thor to Lion King 3D, if it’s been released in Suva since my arrival, chances are high that I’ve seen it whilst enjoying a vanilla-flavoured choc top or loudly exclaiming that this isn’t vanilla as I eat a coffee-flavoured choc top.

My point is not that I’m very apparently a fat lazy bum that really doesn’t do anything. I resent any and all comments to that effect and offer up my golden-brown (and potentially cancer-prone) skin and sun-bleached locks as proof that I do in fact get outside. My point is not even related to that, in fact. Twist!

The fact of the matter is that all this comedy, all this drama, all these special effects, is making real life dull. To slightly edit the words of the vest-wearing Chandler Muriel Bing, “I went to the bank this morning and the teller didn’t hand over my money in a large canvas sack with a big $ sign printed on it”. Nor do I walk into a room only to have to stand and wait straight-faced until the canned laughter dies away (although how cool would that be?). And while taxis and buses break down or crash frequently, none of them ever erupt in ear-shattering explosions and rolling balls of flame. I mean it’s just not fair.

All my (admittedly first-world) problems were addressed a little while back. My life, for a while, mirrored an episode from almost every single sitcom from the 90s and 2000s: My parents came to visit. As with most episodes, all the carefully-crafted plans I laid out to ensure my parents would have a smooth, enjoyable and relaxing time dissolved into humourous set pieces of highly-charged comedic action. Highlights included being charged twice at one of the most expensive resorts in Fiji (HAHAHAHA!); my parents being the only tourists on a tiny island and spending two days asking question after question after question after question to the very understanding and kind staff (only slight murmurs of laughter on that one, but that just makes the next one even better); my parents getting ripped off by a taxi driver, me coming to the rescue and saving them $25 only to have my father side with the driver and demand I give him the full amount (BUAHAHAHAHAH); and the icing on the cake, the cherry on top and the chocolate sauce dribbled down the ice cream swirls: all of us getting a stomach virus one by one and spending 5 days in various hotels, resorts and islands coming to know a number of toilet bowls and buckets intimately (OH IT’S JUST TOO FUNNY HAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!! *WIPES TEARS AWAY*). Isn’t toilet humour the best?

That said, the episode/week with my family finished on a charming and sentimental note, where despite all the pain (predominantly emanating from the stomach) and embarrassment (again, emanating largely from the stomach) was forgotten as we realised how much we all mean to each other and how lovely the time together was. And as the credits rolled, the camera closed in on me, sitting in a bus heading back to Suva, as a large Fijian man sat next to me, practically forcing me into the window with his bulk. And if that isn’t funny enough, a loud grumble rolled out from my stomach and I looked around uncomfortably, only to see a 'Suva - 190km' roadsign flash by….

I made it back to Suva by the unsoiled seat of my pants. I did however miss Wednesday Wire due to being away with my parents, so I need to catch up. It doesn’t feel right watching it on a Monday, but I’ll give it my darndest. Oh, and here's a picture of Community because it's awesome.