Pirates in Paradise 2009 - Key West, Fl
Chapter 5th, 12/5 Evening - Details concerning Saturday dinner, the riotous Dead Man's Chest Auction, hanging out with the twins, almost completely failing to pick up Jack Roberts from the Airport, what can be told of things that happen in the Archangel camp after dark and standing on the beach looking for the next land mass.
Upon arrival at the fort in the evening, I learned that dinner was soon to be served. Having left my bowl and utensils in the encampment, I wandered back over there to pick them up. Fortunately, I ran across Red Jessi on the way out and she gave me her lantern to light my way back. Unfortunately, the lantern was so bright that it played hell with my recently laser-treated eyes, so I had to turn it off so I could actually see the path most of the way. Fortunately it proved most useful once I got back to the camp. Unfortunately...well, nothing, I just wanted to balance my 'fortunatelys' and 'unfortunatelys.'
Photo: Mission
Photo: Mary Diamond
They didn't have anything ready for the vegetarians - I think the menu was
chicken and noodles, beef stew, steak dessert, spam, spam, spam, eggs and
spam. Not very veggie-friendly. I knew that Robyn of the Bone-Island
Buccaneers was also vegetarian, so I asked Captain Spike about
any food for your poor old ship's surgeon. He disappeared and returned
with a small keg which I suspect serves as a boat anchor when they're
not using it to hold Mulligatawny stew (left). The lovely Robyn (right
- with a really drunk guy)
had made a huge
helping of the stuff for us, for which I was most grateful. At the table,
Michael was serving his homemade cherry wine, which added just the
right touch.
Following dinner, they held the Dead Man's Chest auction. Cannibal Chrispy served as the auctioneer. I must say that last year's auction was a sedate and well-mannered affair compared to this year. This was more like a bar brawl. Oh, it started off fairly typically with various re-enactor items being auctioned - plates, utensils, etc, but that was only the appetizer.
Below (left): The crews watch the Dead Man's Chest auction. Mark and Hawkins (center) look on from the peanut gallery as (right) Chrispy plays the excellent auctioneer.
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mary Diamond
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
Among several other things auctioned was a hat donated by the White Pavilion
which they agreed to block and set for you. (Patrick was at Hand to
let me know that it was just such an unblocked hat that he stretched and
cajoled into what is now your surgeon's chapeau. He said I should buy it,
but then I wouldn't have a Patrick Hand original, now would I? Besides, if
I did the job it would probably look like something the cat dragged in,
took a good strong look at, and then decided to drag back out again.) One
of Michael Bagley's cartridge pouches went for a goodly sum, the amount of
which I do not recall, causing him to beam with pride. They also auctioned a shirt to be
made by Kate Bagley that really set the event up for some serious bidding.
There was a lot of back-and-forth over this shirt and it
eventually went for princely sum of $92. (I plan to have her make it out
of brick red fabric for me.)
Right: Chrispy auctioning Michael's bag.
Photo: Mission |
Photo: Mission |
Photo: Mission |
Above, left: Archangels Lily Alexander, Madam Grace, Dutch and Captain Sterling enjoying Chrispy's antics. Center, Chrispy auctioning the original Patrick Hand comics as featured on the Pyracy Pub. Right, we have another bidder! (Mary Diamond [seated] was keeping the accounts.)
Photo: Mission
Photo: Mission
All that was raucous and jolly, but the lunacy began to ramp up with the auctioning of one of the alleged
"Mission mugs." Stynky had taken one of the remaining mugs [not mine] and put it up for auction.
The bidding went on for some little while, greatly offending my sense of honesty. I finally announced that it was not my mug. I went to Chrispy and showed him my mug and he said (fake sotto voce) "You're not helping, mate."
Left: A "Mission" mug being auctioned. Right: It's a fake!!
Photo: Mission
Photo: William
So I sat back down, foolishly setting
my mug down on the seat first. By God if it didn't disappear in those
few seconds! I accused poor Red Jessi of stealing it. So we got up and
searched all over and under the table for it until Mark Gist, who was
sitting across the aisle, produced it with a large grin. (I'm just glad
it wasn't Stynky or it would probably have been mailed to Juno,
Alaska or some such place...) Since the truth was out about the mug being auctioned,
(the auction was still going on during my frantic search for the genuine
article), Stynky produced two more mugs which Chrispy claimed were the
three original mugs in a video on My Space. I think the unmatched set
finally went for $40. (And good riddance to it!)
Left: And then there were three... a collection of the "original" Mission mugs being auctioned. Right: Mark Gist planning the real Mission's mug heist. (At least he gave it back.)
The next item auctioned was an hour of service by Israel Cross. Who auctioned him? Why, our own William Redwake! (And boy did he ham it up.) I wish I could explain this bit better for you...it was the most chaotic, riotous thing I saw this weekend. (And I've saw a lot of chaotic, riotous things.) Mr. Cross is a thespian from the word go (which makes the usually sedate William's boisterous role in this all the more impressive.) Israel played this thing up like you wouldn't believe. He insisted that when I talked about this that I explain it was his idea. Israel's offer of service also sold for $40 if I remember rightly - and the winner was Captain Sterling...by proxy.
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Clint Beach
I did get to chat with Israel
later on during the weekend where he shared his fascinating perspective on the role of black
pirates, of which there were several, and period slavery, of which there was
a great deal.
He told me that most people of color barely even know about their people's role in the 17th and early 18th centuries. Worse, many of them don't even want want to talk about it. Most European descendents are so busy trying to be PC (er, the other sort of PC) that they're afraid to talk about what happened. So Israel views his role as highly educational. (On the other hand, he also clearly likes to tweak people.)
Right: Israel Cross in downtown Key West. (This was taken a photo-story put together by M.A. d'Dogge and Matty Bottles.
You may be wondering how things got to be so rowdy. (And this was just the beginning. A guy apparently decided to auction off a kiss after I had left (which I'll explain momentarily). Red Jessi explained that auction this way,Mission, Mae, Brig and their friend missed the infamous kiss due to leaving to pick Jack up at the airport. A non-pub pyrate decided at the last minute to add a kiss to the auction. Alas, the poor lad had not figured out that pyrates of our ilk have a rather twisted sense of humor (and after the auctioning of Israel Cross, he has only himself to blame for this lack of insight!). As such, much to his likely dismay, all the individuals bidding on said kiss were men. The prize ended up going to Cross for $12. Deciding to sweeten the pot I asked Mickey Souris to help me out: as I spent most of the weekend sans voice, I needed his vocal power to make a bid for me. Another $10 for a long kiss. Next thing we know, people are adding music and candlelight. Lots of candlelight, so people could get good, romantic pics! (expect to see them soon, I'm sure!)"
I didn't see any photos, or I'd have posted them, but you can see what we were dealing with here. All I can say about the rowdiness of the auction is that I can't personally understand what would cause such a thing like that at all. But it's best not to dwell on such things. Let me just share a few more pics from the evening and we'll get on with it.
Photo: Mission |
Photo: Mission |
Photo: Mission |
Photo: Mission
So, back to the auction... or, rather, back to Mae and Brig who were at the
auction with their friend Nelly. After the Israel auction had concluded, I went to find my fellow twins. ( I am the
third twin for reasons I don't even recall, but for which I am almost
surely responsible.) We got a nice shot of the
three of us for mother. (Curiously, if you add Mae and Brig's
ages together it's much closer to my age than they are, so this whole third twin thing
is a pretty shaky. But don't tell anyone.) While we were chatting, Brig's
husband, Jack Roberts texted her to let her know he was ready to be picked
up at the airport. Even though the auction was continuing along its rowdy
path, I thought it would be fun to go with her to pick up Jack. Actually,
it turned out to be a really bad idea - particularly for Jack.
Mae and their friend Nelly accompanied Brig and I back to the car to get cigars. They had conveniently parked the car as far as humanly possible from either end of the normal walking path to make getting to it totally inconvenient. Mae kept insisting in her soft southern lilt that we take some dark, off-the-normal-route path to get to the car. Brig said Mae was wrong. (Twins! Twins!) Brig claimed that the path Mae wanted to take was the nature trail (which it actually was.) Mae finally got her way and we found ourselves walking on some strange path atop coral mounds (Indian burial mounds, no doubt) next to the normal path. I'll let Brig explain, even though everything about to be printed here is totally wrong. "During the unfortunate nature trail walk, a root stretched across our path in the near-darkness. This led our intoxicated ship's surgeon [Who me?] to declare "That's a snake! It's big enough to eat Mae. This place is full of Mae-snakes." Well that's what she said. Note that Brig legally has to wear glasses when she's driving, so who are you going to trust?
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Above left: Paying homage to the skeleton sculpture on the path along the way. Above right, the nature trail trek. All the Mae-eating snakes heard the camera lens opening and quickly vacated the shot.
Photo: Mission
Photo: Mission
Anyhow, I successfully
fended off all the Mae-eating snakes crouched along the path, even if Mae didn't believe there were any.
At the end of the nature trail, we did find the car, vindicating Mae in her path choice. She and Nelly took cigars and left.
Left: Brig and Mae search for the rum and cigars...while Mission and Nelly (right) wait. Clearly, these two can be up to no good.
Photo: Mission
Brig and I climbed in to go get Jack, who was now sending his sixth text message asking Brig
to come pick him up. Your ship's surgeon did not help in this venture at
all.
Those of you who have been following this missive will probably notice that, despite the fact that I have been to Key West 20 times or so and have ridden a bicycle on nearly every street and alleyway I could find, I have a terrible sense of direction. You'll recall that I have gotten several people semi-lost in the search for things that I have been to many, many times on this trip alone. This voyage to the airport was to be no exception. Brig wanted to use her GPS (which she did) but I said I knew how to get their "the short way." We got so lost the GPS finally just said, "I wash my hands of you. May God be with you in your quest."
Below, two of the more recognizable pictures of the the barricades in the barrios of Key West. You know how you can see something pretty well so you think it would make a good picture? Below is proof that this is not always true.
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Brig said, "Our unintentional tour of the
island while on the way to the airport was repeatedly declared "an
adventure!". I simply could not argue with that one.
It was all rather exciting." See what exciting things
can happen to you when you ask me for directions in Key West ?
Photo: Mission
Photo: Mission
Somehow, Brig
and I managed to get past some road blocks and into a place where every road
was solidly blocked to keep people out
of the place we were in. Hours later, we found the right road (which,
ironically enough, was on the opposite side of the barrier where we had
given up and turned around to retrace our steps - I was actually on the
right path.) Meanwhile, Jack was standing at the airport talking to
the security guy (left) who was trying to convince him he'd probably be better
off getting a cab, walking or possibly even swimming to the fort. So we ended up taking the long way
but we arrived, much to the
surprise of the security guy, but not to Jack (right).
Photo: Jessica Bagley
By the time we got back to
the fort, the auction was long over and the hot spot was the Archangel
camp. Most of the Mercury and Archangel
folks were there, a large fire was going and rums flowed freely. Red Jessi
had brought a fine rum, which was not the Ron Atlantico she brought last
year, but something equally as good with a funny name like Riki Tiki Tavi.
According to Jessi, "It was Kilo Kai, not Riki Tiki Tavi. (But if Mickey and
Kate decide to switch from wine and mead to rum, I think they should
appropriate the name!)" Since Kipling is dead and probably can't sue,
I think so as well.
Right: a thoroughly lovely and gratuitous pic of Jessi, provider of rum.
Photo: Mission
Israel Cross was sitting in the camp so I decided to chat
with him some more. He told me that he crews on boats for a living (just in case you're
a contestant on
Jeopardy! and that's the $800 question under the "Random Re-enactment
category.") He must really like crewing, because he also volunteers
to crew on period boats in his spare time. During the week, he and Mark Gist, of the
Columbus, OH Santa Maria ship fame, had a really detailed and intricate
discussion about bringing the Santa Maria to where it sits moored in the
Scioto River today. They got it there by building it, sawing it in half with chainsaws
so it could be put on trucks and then putting it back together once it was
in Columbus (the answer to the $1000 question.)
Israel was appalled to learn that the Santa Maria had never left its mooring.
As he put it, "ships were made to move!"
Left: Isreal and Youngblood show us...something.
Photo: Mary Diamond
Here
my recollections begin to blur...badly. My camera battery stopped working
so I don't even have any photo-documentation from which to reassemble the
goings on. I spent a lot of time talking to William, Mary Diamond and
quite possibly the Moon God, Gilgamesh and the ghost of PiPmas past.
I eventually wound up on the beach, marveling at the moonlit ocean. There was a cool breeze coming across the spit of land that comprised the beach. I'd say it was in the 60s, which is parka weather for the locals. So I went off and gazed out over the water and wondered the same thing I often wonder when standing at the edge of an ocean at night; "How far is it to the next land mass?"
Right: Mission with Mary, Lily and William.
Below, For whatever reason I prefer playing "How far is the next landmass?" at night (left), particularly when sozzled, although the day photos (right) are a little more revealing for the journal readers.
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Someone was standing on the beach a short distance away from me, but I figured if I respected his solitary beach-gazing experience, he would be OK without me. After awhile, my beach companion decided to come over and visit. Turns out his name was McPlumbo and he was from...Cleveland? He was involved with skilled trades of some sort (I think it was plumbing...?) and he owned a small business there doing home maintenance of some form. He said business was slow and he had had to lay everyone off to make ends meet. He was doing all the work himself now.
Apparently he had just enough free cash to come down to KW and practice his true sport - painting images of pirates. His shop was one of those tucked away in the spaces in the fort I mentioned previously. He told me he had made enough this weekend to cover his space rental. Since he liked painting, that was good enough for him. He planned to return to PiP next year. We agreed that it was important to do the things you like as often as you can, shook hands and said good night. He ambled off the beach, leaving me to wonder about the next land mass. I was sort of sad he is leaving tomorrow, because I'd have liked to talk with him at length when I was more...clear-minded. And maybe gotten a photo so there were fewer long bursts of text on this page. Alas.