Pirates in Paradise 2009 - Key West, Fl
Photo: Mission
Even Hamish knows what's going to happen to the bike.
Chapter 3rd, 12/4, Night -Of what happened Friday night
including several reflections upon geography. Also
containing many strange animal references which seem to be a regular
thing in these journals. Then again, many surgeons discussed animals in
their journals so maybe it's not so strange. OK, it is.
The fort was pretty quiet when I got back. Fayma had brought my bicycle...or rather Fayma's bicycle since mine had two flat tires. (I believe the brand name of the bike I bought two years ago in Key West is POS. It would have been cheaper to buy and stable a horse based on what I've had to pay to fix that bike.) So Fayma loaned me one of the coaster bikes she bought for the fort two years ago. Alas, it had no lock. Fayma said if it got stolen that wouldn't be a problem. (This is what's called foreshadowing, which is a sign of really good literature.)
Photo: Mission
Photo: Mission
I chatted with Stynky, Morgan Drake and Robyn (Who is carrying a small dog
around this year for some reason. Maybe for protection
…the dog's protection. He's far too small to protect Robyn.) Fayma pulled out an alleged Mission Mug which Braze and Cascabel
allegedly shot. She was conned into buying it from Josh for $20. There's talk of auctioning it at the Dead Man's Chest on
Saturday, but since it's not my mug, I advised them not to buy the snake oil Stynky's peddlin'!
Speaking of Morgan, I spent some time observing her and I figured out that she is actually a sorceress (below left). She uses a device to steal people's souls (below center left), which turns them into vampirates who stalk the living and suck out their humors (below center right - Matty Bottles attacks Rats). She even recruits others into the craft by explaining powerful spells (below right). So keep a sharp eye out for Morgan...entreat with her at your peril!
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Matty Bottles
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
Over at the Archangel campsite, I talked at length with Mary Diamond about this and that. I recall that humorous things were said, but I cannot recall
exactly what humorous things were said in due to my sleep-deprived state.
(Sorry that's so lame.)
Since I took a bunch of pictures of the people I was talking to, I will have to try and make something good up for the Surgeon's Journal Web page. Like, "Oh, and here we have Julius Copperskull drinking from Stynky's ginormous flask as we discuss the business climate in China." (Stynky had emptied much of the flask into my mug - which he didn't even try to steal. He must be slipping in his old age. Did I mention it was his birthday?)
Left: OK, apparently I didn't take a bunch of pictures that night (either that or Morgan the conjurer made them disappear) so you'll have to do with this daylight shot of the Archangel camp, featuring (from left - Josh, Rats, Edward O'Keefe and a rare shot of the elusive Mark. Just pretend it's night time.)
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Clint Beach
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Photo: Bagleys
Speaking of the encampment, it has a nice communal feel
this year. People hang out in their sites, often telling loud and bawdy stories at night in the moon- and candle-light. There are
also lots of new people to meet, which is always fun.
The fort was pretty barren inside this year - they seem to be doing a lot of work on the structure. The vendors are all lined up in the middle of the fort. Several folks are camping there but I don't envy them. It was hot yesterday (my bringing the sun was apparently a mixed blessing) and the fort has almost no breeze. Sitting in the beach encampment, you get the most wonderful fresh light gusts of wind coming off the ocean.
Unfortunately they will not have a tavern until Sunday. This is sad because the tavern has been one of the charming aspects of this event - regular readers may recall tales of stolen mead last year.
Photo: Mission
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Photo: madPete
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Photo: Sherry Stilley Walp) - The fort looking a trifle more barren than last year.
Photo: Clint Beach
Back in the Mercury camp, I learned that Red Jessi had wisely gone to sleep while we Mercury folks loudly discussed silly things about the pub. (It isn't bad enough that we sit around the
Pyracy Pub and type silly things to each
other, now we go to events and talk about typing silly things to each
other.)
William related a happening from the day before where three burly guys discussed the pros and cons of various stitching methods. As he said, "Only at PiP...." He didn't know the half of it.
Left: "Please tell me how to make that buttonhole stitch!" "First, you mark the buttonhole with a pencil or chalk - like this one. Then, using linen or silk thread, baste each buttonhole. Cut and overcast the cut edges so they will not unravel..." (Actually this is from Cllint Beach.)
Photo: Jessica Bagley)
Photo: madPete
I had a chance to chat with madPete who flew in from
Arizona where he said it never rains except when it pours down in absolute buckets. He was
fairly quiet every time I saw him, which suggested he was a fellow introvert. (Of course I'm an introvert!) I told him that I was impressed that he would come all that way to hang out with people he had never met before. He just shrugged and said you have to try new things, which is a great philosophy. Turns
out he is also a talented cartoonist!
Left: madPete Right: madPete with Shay of the Keys - he said he was experiencing gun envy.
Photo: Mission
Photo: Mission
Gate duty turned out to be mostly about sitting around, talking and counting the processing millipedes. Jessi regaled me with tales of her recent trip to Ireland to keep me from nodding off in my sleep-deprived state. I guess
Ireland had the worst weather in recent memory, with flooding washing
bridges away and leaving people to be rescued by helicopters. Intrepid RJ stuck it
out and visited most of the places she wanted to see anyhow. She added
another tattoo to her growing collection and said she planned to add for each new foreign
country visited. We talked of James Joyce, Dorothy Parker, Mark Twain and Hemingway; it
was most diverting.
Left: The Gate; cue the Hogan's Heroes March. Right: Jessi (with some guy) on Friday night.
Photo: Mission
In all we counted 6 millipedes wandering along the paved road. It was a regular parade, it was. They all seemed to be going the same way, causing me to ask Jessi all sorts of weird questions about millipede motivation, intent and
reasoning. She said they probably just think about finding food. (Did I mention I was sleep-deprived?)
This is an actual photo of one of the processing millipedes. Now, I realize that it sort of looks like a stick sitting on any old stretch of blacktop, but I assure you that it is the genuine article, captured on film by yours truly on Saturday morning around 2 am. Seriously. A millipede. Processing. (Would I lie to you?)
Photo: Mission
Our replacement watch (Vintage Sailor and his wife Sansanee) showed up just in time for the second car we
saw on our watch to pull up. It was the arrival of Mae, Brig and Nelly. Of course I asked
them for 17 pieces of ID and forms signed in triplicate along with a license to sell hair tonic...to bald eagles...in Omaha, Nebraska. Brig said, "We knew this was going to be problematic when we saw you guarding the gate."