The morning of her departure Ms. B's seaweed body wrap didn't cling properly and had to be reapplied, so she and Stan arrived at the dock two hours late. Thankfully, Rex and Tina understood completely (Ms. B had to tell a teeny white lie about Stan being hit by a bicycle messenger on the way over). In fact, the Johnson's felt so terrible they insisted Stan join the crew as bartender/events coordinator. The nutty couple even agreed to toss some of their heavier reference books and valuables overboard to make room for sturdy Stan. But when the cargo was finally tallied, they were still 31 kgs over weight.

Ms. B selflessly volunteered to give up her wooly slippers and cocktail kimono, but the effect was negligible. Rex, Tina and Stan, having forsaken all their worldly possesions, stared expectantly at Ms. B and her stack of gear. The ship's clock ticked loudly in Ms. B's sensitive ear. Rex took a step forward, toward Ms. B's beloved makeup case, which suddenly seemed perilously close to the water."If we just got rid of this, love, we'd have room for your valet," he smiled ruefully.

For a brief instant, the vivid palettes and textures of her four star beauty products ran through Ms. B's tortured mind. The treasures in that bag had seen her through countless opening nights, Golden Globes, relaxing beauty parlor evenings at home with Stan and the girls . . . but she shook these off and bravely turned, lip quivering, to Stan.