The last night. I find myself with the rest of the bonhomie at the evening show. We're watching GOs in period clothing lip sync an abridged version of Grease . It is, I realize, the perfect metaphor for the club. There's not much time.
Circumstances have to be manipulated to get people together more quickly.
After the show, Moussa, who'd been playing the Frankie Valli role, comes out. He's radiant in his tight sequined pants, long shaggy wig and aviator sunglasses. Do you want to do some crazy signs, he shouts. Tomorrow new bodies off fresh charters will inhabit our deck chairs. The GOs with whom we'd walked along the beach at night, about whom we'll have fond memories for the rest of our lives, will be chatting up the new arrivals.