After Action Report Pirate Party

Princess Kay and Captain Jim Fudge

I have to express my apologies and concede that though a fair weaver of stories, I’m a poor action reporter.  I was right on scene on the afternoon/night of the 21st and now it’s the 28th and I still haven’t submitted an article outlining the events of that ill-famed night.  I’ve just apologized, but I would like to convey reasons, not excuses as to why I’ve been so remiss.

Try to picture the morning after, tongue swollen in my mouth, squinting at the screen through my bloodshot eyes embedded in the front of my large aching head, hoping that I would not be exposed to any loud noises or motion of any kind.  Trying to penetrate the fog in my brain, I place my fingers on the keyboard, close my eyes, picture last night in my mind, and let the words flow down through my fingers through the keyboard and onto the computer screen.

After about 10 minutes, I open my eyes to assess my progress.  Imagine my shock at seeing some kind of coded unknown and undecipherable language.  As rapidly as my impaired facilities allowed, I came to two revelations.  One, my fingers were not placed on the keyboard in the proper position and two, I was not in any shape to attempt any kind of intelligent communication.  This is just not going to work out.

I pulled my cleanest pair of dirty pants and shirt on and crawled through the hatch to squint into the blinding pre-noon sunlight.  Seeing my obvious distress, Pirate Princess Kay on Ocean Lady hailed and implored that I come over for treatment. Boat ramps and finger piers are very treacherous places during times of impaired facilities and unsteady gravity, but with a fearlessness I am known for, I made it from Snap One to Ocean Lady with a minimum of excitement.  Shortly after I was assisted to a seated position on a stable perch aboard the sizable pirate yacht, my fingers were wrapped around a glass containing one of Princess Kay’s infamous bloody Marys, and I knew everything was going to be alright.

Kay’s bloody Marys are known all along the coast for their awesome taste, unique secret ingredients, unusual dill pickle and onion garnish, and incredible healing properties.  They have been known to revive people from near death hangovers in surprisingly short times.  I sat there savoring the tart red drink as my funk lifted and found myself basking in the warm friendship of other patients of Dr Kay whose presence I wasn’t aware of when I arrived.  The closer I got to the bottom of the glass, the better and more human I felt.  By the time the drink was gone, I was able to smile, talk, and much enjoyed the light, clever interaction of the other survivors.

Grog Master Earlene and Pirate King Bill

Much too soon, it was over, and I found myself on the dock helping to cast off the lines and watch Ocean Lady and the other pirate ships cruise stately from the dock and out, returning to their respective home ports.

Standing alone in the Florida sun, watching everyone leave, sweating like a leaky sponge, I decided that I needed to take care of myself, so made my way back aboard Snap One and crawled into my bunk to sleep till better times.  Better times did not come.  I was awakened by the telephone sometime in the afternoon and informed that the mother of a good friend had passed away.  I packed all my perishable food and within an hour was on the road and headed to a land of no internet.  It’s odd how the sadness of a passing is tempered by the pleasure of spending time with friends cherished but seldom seen.

So, a week later, what can I report about the Talk Like a Pirate Party?

Trying to impress Regina

For me, it started with dress rehearsal at home, supervised by my very understanding wife, Pirate Admiral Goddess Ellen.  She gets credit for my entire ensemble, much of it fabricated or gathered by her.  I stand like a mannequin while she makes sure that clothes, hat, cutlass, coat, and earrings are squared away and authentic.  I am very proud of the earrings as they cost me a buc-an-eer….. haha, get it?  OK, Sorry, that was really bad.

Lenny

Then comes the trip over to the boat, looking like a weird oddball kook freak nut engaged in a bizarre attempt at drag.  Upon arrival at the marina, try walking through the Tiki Bar dressed like this.  I had to pull the cutlass and back off a few advances. I did get a phone number from a big guy with a tattoo.

Next comes getting the boat dressed out with pirate flags followed immediately by serious sessions of “pre-drinking” which is necessary in order to make that all important “first pirate impression.”  A little word of caution about “pre-drinking”.  Three and a half hours of “pre-drinking” may be a bit much for the faint at heart and can’t be good for the brain.

Tatooed Wenches

By the time the sun is low, the pirate boats from other marinas start arriving, the keg of grog comes out, other costumed pirates begin congregating on the dock, and the party begins, I’m out there with my camera but so $#!% faced that I’m not completely capable of operating it.  I have a weak start going up to people going “brawk brawk, Polly wanna quacker!” with the result of strange looks.  Then it occurs to me that this is actually “Talk Like a Pirate Day”.

The grog, specially and secretly formulated by Pirate Princess Earlene, has been known to cause blindness, stupidity, flat feet, and projectile vomiting.  Everyone knows not to drink it however, everyone drinks it anyway because it tastes so good, and I set about to empty the keg.  As might be expected, the night digressed into a dizzy blurr of pirate stories, flirting with wenches, blurting out of random nautical and piratical statements, and much overuse of the letter “arrrrr” all spoken with a raspy voice.

I don’t remember all that much of the night, but at some point I was honored with the presentation of the “bung”, the greatest recognition any drunken seafarer could rise or sink to. Now, before you jump to the conclusion that presentation of the “bung” is something demented, perverted, or homophobic, let me explain that the rum aboard ship is stored in a wooden keg that is assessed by a tapped hole that is plugged by a wooden “bung”.  An empty keg certainly denotes one hell of a good time and an empty keg really doesn’t need a “bung” so why not give it to some deserving soul as a prize?  So yes, I am bragging about getting the “bung”!

How bout this crew?

Back to the reporting.  Nobody fell off the dock.  Nobody threw up on the dock.  Nobody got pregnant on the dock.  A whole bunch of people were there.  A good time was had by all.  The food was really good.  The grog was wonderful.  Pirate King Bill Lemmer did a spectacular job organizing and administrating the whole affair.  We are all looking forward to next year already. We need a real reporter to do this kind of reporting.