My run-in with Jimmy Buffett in Bora Bora

A tribute

Jimmy Buffett had an owie in Bora Bora. A band aid on his right knee - I like to imagine it was from a coral scratch from surfing, but who knows, maybe it was something else.

It was 1983 and I had just arrived in Bora Bora, Tahiti - two days after my college graduation and a long flight from LAX to Papeete, the capital of Tahiti, then a crowded 2-day local transport ferry to Bora Bora. Fresh faced, a backpack, a gleaming white pair of new tennies, a Sony Walkman and ten cassette tapes - seven of which were Jimmy Buffett tapes. I was traveling solo, but quickly met several other young backpackers on the ferry, and we all agreed to rent a house together on the beach in Bora Bora for the month. The house had a boombox - and I had the music. I played those seven Buffett cassettes over and over, initially to the chagrin of my new friends - Italians, Swiss, German, British - not one of whom had ever heard Margaritaville or Come Monday. After a week or so of mostly constant Buffett, I noticed some head nodding, some toe tapping and even some singing to the catchy tunes. I was a confirmed Parrothead at this point in my life.

A week into our fun, one of the British girls came home and said to me "Jimmy Buffett is playing tonight at the bar". I flipped her off, with a smile, for making fun of me and my Buffett obsession. Later that day, another housemate came home and said the same thing - "tonight at 8:00 at the Bloody Mary's Bar". Really, what are the chances. It was a simple beach bar, in the sand, open air with a thatched roof. It's still there 40 years later - but it seems to be a big deal now (https://www.bloodymarys.com).

We got to the bar at 8:00, and sure enough, Jimmy Buffett, my lifestyle and word-gymnastics idol, was indeed going to play that night. He was on a sailing vacation with his wife Jane, four-year-old daughter Savannah, and a bandmate - and he was going to do an impromptu concert at the bar that night - for all 30 of us. With a funky little amp and a microphone strung over a tree branch, he played for over two hours....just us sitting in the sand, with beers all-around, bought by Jimmy. We called out songs (by then even the Euros had favorites - the Italian guy Lorenzo calling out “I want eeta chees-a-burger”) and he played them. I called out for God's Own Drunk - which got a wry glare and smile and a "no - can't do that". If you know, you know.

It was magic, particularly for a fanboy, and I still remember every minute of it.

Jimmy said he'd like to play a new song for us, one he had just written and had never performed in front of anyone. The song was One Particular Harbor, written about a favorite harbor in Tahiti, and sung with some Tahitian lyrics.

It's a beautiful song, on the album with the same name, and I've always treasured being one of the first to hear it.

Fast forward, and I've remained a fan over the years. I've been to a couple of dozen shows; I've taken roommates, other pals, girlfriends, and girls I wanted to be my girlfriend (looking at you CB). I've had front row seats, back row seats, and palm tree seats. I never went in for the crazy parking lot antics or wearing fin hats on my head, but I get it, and it was always fun to watch the fun. He sold us a lifestyle, and he showed us how to turn a phrase as a novelist, song writer and "calypso poet" ("if the phone doesn't ring, it's me").

This isn't the Labor Day Weekend Show I was looking for, and it's ironic that it's this weekend when he's sailed away. I've spent the past day listening to his music, starting way back with his first album. I'm seven albums in, and I still know every word to every song.

"....I have a schoolboy's heart, a novelist's eye, stout sailor's legs and a license to fly".

Thanks Jimmy.

Jimmy Buffett in Bora Bora, Tahiti 1983