Fairy Terns and Sailors

This is a fairy tern, or white tern. It lays its eggs in the crooks of trees, and then dive-bombs you if you get too close. If you are lucky, you get to fly half way around the world and see one in person.

I got a gig singing for the sailors and airmen (you know the women are "airmen" too) on a tiny atoll called Diego Garcia. DG is smack-dab in the middle of the Indian Ocean, at 7 degrees south of the Equator. It's owned by the Brits and leased to the U.S. The tropical island used to be a coconut oil plantation.

It's still a tropical island. The humidity is 100% all the time. Running on the jungle trails, even first thing in the morning, left me drenched and destroyed.

The terns don't mind it. Neither do the feral donkeys and roosters.



I was fronting a classic rock band on this job, and it was the easiest gig I ever had. Aside from the 30 hours of flight time to get there, including 3 nights in Singapore while waiting for military transport, it never seemed like work. During the day we lolled on pristine white beaches and swam in turquoise water. The reefs around the atoll were filled with brilliantly colored fishes. There was a sanctuary for breeding turtles. And there were hundreds of military personnel resting here before they were sent to more grueling assignments, including Iraq.

The band was contracted to play just four 2-hour shows in various locations on the base, but we played every day we were there, and for as long as they wanted to hear us. Those young men and women were the most appreciative audiences I've ever had. But it was I who kept thanking them, every time I got behind the microphone.

What I really wanted to do was apologize.