Pirates in Paradise 2010 - Key West, Fl
Photo: Mission
Chapter 8 - Of Lob, fixing the Model A, packing the Model A, more about Lob, going home
in the Model A, missed clothing, fixing the Model A some more, playing pirate games at Shay's house and still more about Lob. You can never get
enough of Lob. Trust us.
Michael Bagley had sent Lob to me in the diplomatic bag. (A virtual nickel to anyone who can identify the movie that's from - unless I've already told you.) Lob had arrived Friday and...we were never told about it. I went over Saturday to pick him up, only to find the office was closed for the weekend. I could see the box he was in, sitting right there on the floor of the office. However, nothing could be done for it, so he sat in that box all weekend in the office. Sorry Lob. (Not very sorry, but a little.) The first thing I wanted to do Monday morning was go get Lob so's I could take him over to the fort and get some photos. He had come all this way for that express purpose, after all.
Photo: Mission
Shay fired up the Model A and we motored down to the office. The minute we got in front of the place, the Model A died, just like
the last time! I think that parking space is cursed. Shay set about figuring out what was wrong with the car
and told me to just go and get Lob. So I did. When I got back, she told me not to look because she was going to spit on the alternator.
If this was going to be an issue, I wished she had asked me to do. As any number of readers have told me after reading my accounts, I
am absolutely full of spit! At least I think that's what they told me. As it turns out, spit provides good
electrical conduction when the alternator won't work and that bit of saliva made the alternator happy all the way home. Yep, you probably
guessed it already; the Model A started right up after that. No problemo. So we took the box containing Lob home, unpacked him and then
headed out to the fort in our newly spit-restored car.
Photo: Mission
When we arrived, Shay pulled out her new stays and headed over to the Archangel camp to talk with Lily Alexander. Those of you
who read the Surgeon's Journal for the July Lockhouse event will recall all the trouble that Shay had creating stays for
herself when using Kass's patterns. In fact, they were so badly fitted that she had referred to them as "stovepipe stays".
In a desperate attempt to create a pair that actually looked flattering and fit well, she sent out an appeal to several
people including Lily. Most of them offered a bit of good advice, but Lily actually provided a pattern for Shay from which
she was able to construct the dramatically improved stays she wore during PiP 2010. (She called them her Christmas stays
because of the coloring.) Although Lily was extraordinarily busy at the event, she said the pressure would be off on
Monday morning and she would be happy to offer Shay advise on how she could further improve her new stays.
This was all well and good, but I, of course, had more important business to take care of. I needed to get some photos of Lob now that I actually had him. I took several photos of our favorite skinny stuffed monkey.
Now I have never been responsible...we could really stop right there...for Lob. I'm sure there is an art to getting people to pose with Lob, but having no experience, I had to just wing it. So I started out giving Lob to people and telling them, "Do something disgusting with Lob." Apparently, in most people's minds, 'disgusting' = 'perverted' as you can see in the photos below.
Photo: MissionDB kisses Lob |
Photo: MissionGreg French-kisses Lob |
 Photo: Mission Cutter kisses...er...Cutter with Lob |
Photo: Mission
After this, I got wiser and instead told people to 'do something horrible to Lob." This produced much less perverted
results, although I noticed there still seemed to be subcategories in Lob persecution. For example, Lob has always been
associated with food and dining, particularly in the arena of consumption of excess spirits as you will notice
at left. (He seems to be 'hanging over' the jug of hooch. Get it?) [Unfortunately, we do.]
However there was a decided preference for eating Lob at PiP 2010. Israel appeared ready to swallow the hapless little monkey whole. Looks like Lob was going to be going down head first. (Below left.) Matty Short Thumb and Elizabeth Sharpe took a bit less of a mouthful, each choosing Lob legs as the main course, as you can see below center. Unlike those who would just bite of a chunk of our chimp, William Red Wake took the Miss Manners approach and used a fork. (Lob's response? Wait for it... 'Fork you too, buddy!' [Groan...] (I couldn't resist.) [You really should have.] (Aw, c'mon, it was a good pun.) [There's no such thing.]
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Of course several people opted for the ever-popular 'administer pain and suffering to Lob' route as you can see in this
group of photos. At right you can see what happens when we have Lob among the cannonballs. Surely a broken heart will result...
along with broken limbs and spine and spleen... [We're starting to think the fork pun was actually a good
one.] Shush.
Patrick Hand opted for a full body press as you see below left. Luckily, Lob's torso seems to be infinitely compressible. Bone Island Nigel throttled the poor little monkey. He was probably mad that he wasn't able to steal another of your surgeon's bandages this year. [Would you just get OVER that already?] Below center right you'll find your author crushing Lob in the windshield of the Model A. (I think I can safely say I had the coolest Lob-pain-inflicting-prop this year.) Of course, the prize for the coolest pain-and-suffering gag goes to Anna, who used Lob as her bookmark. A very learned response, I think. [We're not even going to deign to comment.] You just did. You have to admit she made an educated choice. [ We don't either.] She handled Lob right smartly... [That's quite enough.] Right.
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Then there are the people who are just too nice to actually do harm to a little, goofy stuffed monkey. They usually just try to adopt some sort of wacky pose. Below left, Momma Ratsey, ever respectful of even her most errant charges, holds Lob nicely in her lap. (That's Captain sterling's finger-gun pointed at Lob's melon. Fayma had nothing to do with it.) Silkie McDonough adopted the latest in fashion by donning a Lob hat. That will certainly make a splash on the Rue de la Paix. Beowulf took a similar approach. I think you've got something far worse than lice in your wig, my friend. Time to take a powder. ... What?! No sarcastic retort? [Is someone talking?]
Now you may be wondering why we all take such harsh measures with Michael Bagley's happy little stuffed monkey. Well, the truth is that...he's a KILLER! See how viciously he goes after the friendly and even-tempered madPete? Horrible! I felt very responsible, thinking to myself, "You stupid dummy-head! His wife will be furious!" Killed by a choking monkey! [Oh, c'mon! That's not even reasonably close to being a good pervy pun.] I'm sorry. I tried. See, I've been sick...
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Lob did not come alone in the diplomatic bag - he was padded by a red waistcoat that Michael Bagley had made for me.
It was long-sleeved with vents in the armpits. (Michael assured me that this was not a comment on my grooming habits,
it was actually in style during period. I guess it was because they didn't have air-conditioning back then.) I had
really wanted to wear this with my new pink flamingo breeches. The sad part was that, like Lob, it was right there but for
the locked door separating me from it, as mentioned previously. (I needed a cat burglar, but I guess they were all busy.
Key West is rife with cats.)
So what you see here at left is what might have been, not what actually was. Alas. This was a
true Bagley Original as can be seen by the label (at right). Check
out those nifty blue-purple button holes. *Sigh* If only things would have worked out better.
There was no time for crying over missed wardrobe opportunities, however. We had to be out of the condo by 11:00. We had spent a little too much time that morning at the fort and were running up against it. Everything Shay and I had hauled down to Key West in the rumble seat had to be packed back in there - without expert-packer Commodore Swab's help! Shay insisted that we also wedge the bicycle period fraction extension device in there as well. Since it had been such a pain in the neck to put in there without the rest of our luggage, I doubted she could do it. Shay is a remarkable woman, however, and she insisted upon working the problem though.
While she was managing all the rumble seat packing, I was tasked with tying her trunk onto the luggage rack. You may have noticed the intricate knot that Commodore Swab had tied on the prologue page. Being a former Boy Scout, I thought I could do likewise. I thought wrong. While the Boy Scout manual does not actually feature a description of the proper way to tie a Gordian Knot, I think I managed to do it. I'm particularly proud to note that rather than even attempt to untie that mess, Shay chose to cut the ropes with her pocket knife when she got home. On top of that achievement, it only took me half a lifetime or more to tie it that way. Shay finished packing the rumble seat, cleaned the rest of the condo out, walked all the way to the rental office, returned the keys and took in the Wrecker's Museum in Key West while I was fiddling with the rope and chest. Still, we managed to squeeze it all in and keep the chest secure in a way that would have made Jed Clampett proud as you can see below.
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One last thing and we would be ready to go. That thing? Where to put Lob. You may ask why we didn't just put Lob on the seat between us. But you will only ask that if you don't understand what Lob is all about. I had to find a really choice (aka. dangerous and potentially painful) place to put Lob for the 3 hour ride home in the Model A. My first thought was to tie him to the hood ornament, as you see below left. This would have been a grand gesture - it was an actual Model A flying goose or flying pigeon or perhaps flying wombat thermometer radiator cover, after all. The problem was that I had used all my rope-tying wiles on the chest and was afraid that Lob might keep flying off. I wasn't worried about Lob, but I had to return him to Michael and that would mean we'd have to keep stopping to pick him up when my sorry knots came undone. (And God forbid if he should come unstuck while we were on the 7-Mile Bridge.) So I opted for something a little more secure. As you see below right, I used his long, ropy limbs to tie him to the ragtop. He was nice and secure, and everything would go well - so long as he didn't have to go to the bathroom.
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Then we were off! As I have mentioned before, taking photos from cars is about the worst possible thing you can do in these journals. They never come out, they basically stop the narrative dead and they only bring back good memories if you were there, which, of course, you weren't. However, I took a bunch on the trip back, so I am once again going to ignore my better judgment and post and explain them. [Which surprises no one.] You know, I think I'll just ignore my editors.
Photo: Charles M. Jones
Below left is a prime example of a picture I should never post. It is of a house in Key West that is decorated for the
PiPmas season with lollypops.
Photo: Charles M. Jones
Lots and lots and lots of lollypops, most of which you can't actually see in this photo.
It was exceedingly creepy-looking, reminding me of the witch's house in Hansel and Gretel. ("Hansel? Haaaaaansel? Hansel?")
This did give me a good idea or a future room for the local haunted house, however. Below right
is a shot of the Model A at the Southernmost Point. For those not familiar with it, I should note that the Southernmost
Point is your standard tourist trap consisting of a large buoy that has been beached and painted with the words "Southernmost
Point." This is because, as you might have guessed by now, it is located (roughly) (very roughly) at the southernmost
point of the island which is the southernmost point of the United States. Shay had mentioned possibly stopping the car here for
a photo, but I talked her out of it. (What are we, tourists?) [Yeah, sort of.]
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As for the trip itself, if I could sum it up in a word it would be: cold. It was in the 50s, which is vicious cold for
Key West, especially when riding in a convertible. Your author had unwisely chosen to dress in shorts and a T. With all
that cool ocean breeze...well. Let's just say I have chosen more wisely. I felt like a bloody Keys tourist.
[Which you were.] (Ig-noring!)
Because the wind was against us, the Model A was also having a hard time. Shay explained something about the engine to me, but I must confess I didn't understand it all. It came down to the fact that the Model A needed a more powerful engine and thus was having a hard time with the headwinds. It would slow down significantly anytime the cold blast hit us on the bridges. Sometimes it would stop, like it did on the bridge to Bahia Honda (seen at left). Shay would get out and diagnose the problems. She is extraordinarily good at this.
Occasionally Lob would try to help, as seen below left. (He always failed.) By my count, we had to stop 5 times. I don't remember all the causes, but the Model A engine was so simple that I think we had issues with every possible engine component. At the third or fourth stop, Shay tried to reassure me by telling me that on her last trip to Key West in the Model A she had had to stop something like 54 times and was eventually stranded at a church about 20 miles south of her home. This did little to reassure me. Nevertheless, we managed to nurse the Model A back to her home in Key Largo. We had literally tucked the tale pipe under the front seat and were going slowly so as not to run the risk of the engine exhaust port catching fire. But we made it. Always an adventure, antique car driving! I will keep that in mind on my next antique auto trip, say in 2032.
 Photo: Mission Lob 'helps"...right before going for an unexpected ride. |
 Photo: Mission Stopping for a nice Keys roadside repair |
Arriving at Shay's place in Key Largo, I immediately put on every piece of clothing in my suitcase to guard against the cold. Ok, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but let's just say that after a week in sunny, relatively warm Key West, I can sort of understand why the citizens of the island put on parkas when it gets this cold. Not wanting to miss any possible chance to torture Lob while he was in my charge, I used him as a makeshift electrical tape dispenser. This is actually somewhat relevant. I had brought my brand new buckle shoes with me on this trip which were not fully broken in. So I packed a roll of electrical tape in order to be able to affix padding inside the shoe if it started to rub funny on my feet. (Being diabetic, I have to be cognizant of such things...) The inclusion of the tape turned out to be a fortuitous thing - we needed it to hold the gas hose together. As it happens, electrical tape is relatively gasoline proof. Thus the joke below left.
Once we were (relatively) warm, it was decided to bicycle down to a local restaurant (the name of which I forget) to have hogfish. This trip turned into quite the hogfish-fest. I had had it twice at my favorite restaurant in Key West - Cafe Sole - and once again at the nameless place in Key Largo. It was served here on Styrofoam plates. You know what? It was still awesome. Following that, Shay and I rode to the dolphin art museum where - I am not kidding - they sell paintings created by dolphins. The salesperson will explain the various 'artists' style with florid language if you prompt them. I have to admit - their artwork is a trifle better than mine. (Which probably says more about my talent than the dolphin's.)
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After the late lunch, we went back to Shay's place for naps and/or work on the Surgeon's Journal. Chad went down to his house,
which was temporarily docked in the slip at Shay's place. (You can see it at right.) Now, I don't care how
cool you think your house is, it is not as cool as living on a sailboat. (Well, unless it is a caboose.)
A significant amount of sailboat-living
coolness accrues in your surgeon's book (which may be published sometime in the next 20 years) from actually having to put
up with all the things you don't have when living offshore. I'm talking about things like uninterruptible power,
hot water, easy access to Taco Bell and insulation when the Keys temperature gets into the 30s. (Which it did.) If you're married and your wife
will actually put up with this, you are off the top of the coolness scale. (And your wife deserves some sort of medal, preferably made
of platinum or diamond.)
Following naps and work on the Journal, it was time to play a pirate
From: Yukon Ho! p. 114
game. Commodore Swab
had a game called Pirates CSG that consisted of cardboard boats, plastic islands and a blue cloth doubling as the ocean which he set up while
Shay was napping and I was
typing. The rules were quite extensive (and seemed to change a bit as we went along. You know what I mean. "Oh, I forgot to
mention that..." followed by some rule that gave the game owner an advantage you hadn't previously know about.) Still, Shay broke out the
genteel liquors and we all sat around and played until Commodore Swab had to go pick Sansanee up from work. It was a most enjoyable evening.
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