February 2008. Lisa and Mike are lounging on the grass in the sunshine. They’re spending the last day of their honeymoon at a “Jazz in the Park” concert in Christchurch.
Ten feet away a much older couple is sitting tangled together, totally focused on one another – gently stroking arms, gazing into eyes, soft kisses… the works.
Mike: “Awww, look at that. They’ve probably been married fifty years and they’re still so much in love. Don’t you think that’s just beautiful?”
Lisa: “I think that they might be having an affair. This is probably a secret, stolen, afternoon tryst in the park. Or maybe one of them has just been diagnosed with three months to live.”
Mike: “What exactly is wrong with you?”
Setting: Christchurch airport, after three weeks of honeymooning on the south island of New Zealand, two hours before boarding. Lisa is in the mood that commonly afflicts her in airports – frazzled and petulant. Mike loves it when Lisa is in this mood.
Mike: “You OK?”
Lisa: “I’m fine.”
Mike: “Do you want to get anything, a book or something?”
Lisa: “No, I’ve got my laptop. I’m going to write.”
Two hours later, walking down the aisle of the plane between rows of passengers who are already seated.
Lisa: “My laptop battery’s dead. Now I want a book. I have nothing to read!”
Mike: (over his shoulder) “Well, normally I might feel badly on your account, but honeymoon’s over. So I’m just going to say that you had two hours to sort yourself out and you didn’t do it. So that’s just too bad.”
Lisa (loudly): “I want my other husband back. The nice one.”
Mike: “I know you do honey. That’s just too bad too.”