I travel to a small island off the coast of Tahiti, where over the course of many years, I have cultivated a very close relationship with a 68 year old free diver who takes me out to the reef in his dugout canoe. He may be getting along in years, but he's wiry and moves like a cat. He leaps from the boat with a knife between his teeth and re-surfaces 2-3 minutes later with a sack full of Oysters, (which we eat on the halfshell whilst deciding which of the associated pearls are worth keeping, and which we should sell to finance our life of leisure...). Sometimes such outings are interrupted buy a war canoe full of cannibals paddling over from New Guinea, eager for a tasty lunch after such a long voyage.. As they launch a volley of toxic tipped darts from their blowguns I retort with my good ol' fashoined all-American "Boomstick", and if I'm felling fiesty (I usually am...) I'll also lob over a couple of lit sticks of dynamite whille yelling "YA!, YA!, YA!" and send them down to Davy Jones' locker. My companion and I return to the shore where we are lauded as heroes and a full blown luau ensues, repleat with hula dancers, tropical drinks served in halved coconut shells, the whole works.... I make sure they render the fat from the cookout for making fresh coconut tallow shave soap.