Pirates in Paradise 2009 - Key West, Fl
Photo: Mission
Chapter 4th, 12/5 Morning -Of Stynky's secrets,
breakfast, what happened as a result of the storm of PiP 2009, Mission
mugs, the origins of a new stupor hero (or "Mission buys a mask") and
lunching with Boo.
Even though the previous night was pretty tame, I felt somewhat hung over. (Which is code for "I want some scrambled eggs." Hung over for me is just moderate ennui, accompanied by periods of light logyness and occasional listlessness.) It may just be a form of jet lag or an extension of the whole sleep-deprivation thing because I only had half of the mug of whatever the heck it was Stynky gave me. (Seemed like a rum thing with hints of cinnamon.) It was overcast when I mounted the coaster bike this morning (which fortunately wasn't stolen) and headed for the fort. Who do I run into on the way through the gate but our own Stynky. He asked me where I was going (since it wasn't obvious) and I explained that was hoping to find some scrambled eggs somewhere in the fort. He said he hadn't seen any (which is probably a lie) and told me he hadn't had breakfast either and was headed out to buy some oil for his gun.
Photo: Mission
So I volunteered to tag along as was was suggested by his pregnant pause. He
drove to a place which he described as "the closest bike shop to the
fort" which is actually incorrect. When I explained this, he said
he'd been going there for the past few years to buy this special synthetic
oil. I guess he had brought his own oil a few years back and it turned out
to be defective or something. He fell in love with this synthetic stuff
which he only purchases from this particular bike shop tucked among the
neighborhoods of
Photo: Mission)
Photo: Mission)
Stynky asked for "the pyrate discount" there. They
were apparently gullible enough to believe there was such a thing and gave
him a dollar off the stuff. (This is probably the real reason he likes to
go there.) The head bike shop genius sagely counseled Stynky to apply the oil to all
the moving parts regularly, which I'm sure Stynky will do.
Left: The bike shop holy of holies. Right: the bike shop expert. He's probably in so many vacation albums he's used to this by now.
Photo: Mission
Now we got to the good part, which was breakfast at some little green and
yellow granola-ey place where Stynky learned that the only milk they
offered was for the coffee. (And even that may have been soy milk.) We got
two really good breakfast wraps with the coveted scrambled eggs and other
veggies in it and coffees. Good stuff, Maynard. Sorting and recycling the
remnants of the feast, we headed back to the fort where he conned one of
the fort people to let him take Braze's truck into the fort. (Actually,
Braze and Cascabel were loading stuff, but it's more fun
to say he conned the guy.)
Right: This speaks for itself. Below, left - Are you being served? Mid - The shoes totally make this outfit. Right - Yagh! (Sorry, that was scary.)
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
Photo: Ivan Henry
I returned to find the Mercury
camp a hive of activity. 60 mph winds were rumored to be headed our way and the skies
looked foreboding. People were packing valuables into
their cars.
I asked Mooseworth if he was taking down his tent and he replied, "Nah, the worst that can happen is the wind will blow the thing over and it will wind up pasted to a car in the parking lot. Then I'll just peel it off and put it back up."
Left: The storm. Right: The nonchalant Mooseworth.
I ambled around the campsites, to take photos of the oncoming storm. It's sort of neat to have a rainstorm in
Photo: Mission
Who should come to my aid, but Mary Diamond! She hollered for me and waved
me over to her husband Mark's MiniCooper. At first I was a little puzzled
at what she wanted because it was not yet quite raining. She had me open
the little suicide door, get in the front seat and move it forward. Then
she got in the back and we closed the doors.
Well. What was I doing here? Then Mark got in and we settled in for a nice bluster. I had shelter without even asking for it.
Left: one of those clever photos you take in a mirror, but try to pretend like you didn't. Uh huh.
An actual Macau Ferry that may or may not be the type
that Mark mentioned. (KP could hitch a ride on one, tho'.) The storm reminded Mark of their trip in a ferry going to Macau (I believe it was Macau), Hong Kong . I guess the boat trip there was pretty regular, but on the trip back they went through what they described as hurricane-like weather. The ship was designed to do this because it apparently happened regularly. Mary noted that on the trip back, everything was smooth coming out of the harbor, but as soon as they left its safety, the waves started. It eventually became a roller coaster ride; one that lasted an hour. She said that people were actually yelling "Woooo!" and putting their arms above their heads during the first few minutes of the waves as the ship would climb one side of a wave and then tumble down the other. She said that many people who were conversing during the trip would calmly pause to throw up and then continue their conversation as if nothing had happened.
The small gale outside the car let up and we all got out of our courageous little Mini (below left). Fortunately, Michael Bagley was on-hand to see that everyone safely egressed from the automobiles (below right.). I can still hear him saying, "Remain calm! All is well!" (Note: this is yet another Animal House reference for those of you who are counting. It is also an unmitigated fabrication.)
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Jessica Bagley
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Photo: Mission
Photo: Mission
The three of us wandered over to the Archangel camp to survey the
damage. Actually there was no damage, other than an utter soaking of Captain Sterling (who
had a 'quizzing glass'...I think that's what he called it. It doesn't matter because it's irrelevant and will never be brought
up again in this account. I just like the term "quizzing glass" and
wanted to see it in print.) Sterling, William Red Wake Edward O'Keefe, Mary, Mark and I stood on the beach and
admired the greenish blue glow of the ocean as the storm clouds continued
to roll across it.
Left: Action shot of Captain Sterling braving the storm to show off how waterproof his beaverskin hat is. Right: CS holding his quizzing glass. Quizzing glass, quizzing glass.
Below left: Edward O'Keefe, Mercury QM William Brand, Archangel Captain Sterling and Mark go to look at the water after the downpour. Below center: Edward said something about a sponge bath that I thought was ill-advised, but who am I to say? Below right: the storm returns, bringing green water with it.
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
As the rain began to pick up again, I trotted towards
the welcoming shelter of Callenish's tent. A whole army of people were hanging out there. It
was like the house on the block where all the kids play from the Kool Aid
commercial. (Does anyone else remember this commercial or did I just make
it up? Nobody there knew what I was talking about.) Shay of the
Keys arrived with some sort of delicious fruit bread and we all chatted
and ate as light rain fell harmlessly, making white puddles all over the place.
Those would be good for upping the humidity once the sun returns.
I never saw what looked like 60 mph winds, though. I later overheard Florida-native Boo describing it this way: "Not bad. It was five minutes of wind and a half hour of rain." Whatever it was, it led to the cancellation of the second battle, so I couldn't intentionally miss it by going to B.O.s. It took some of the "hookey" fun out of the whole venture, you know?
Photo: Mission
After the rain let up, Stynky and I went back over to the fort. I
wanted to check out the vendors a bit better. It turns out that there were
vendors tucked back into the recesses of the fort - mostly artists and
sellers of little nick-nacks. I wasn't brave enough to go into the
casements all by myself,
but Red Jessi fortunately appeared. She wanted to check out the shops as
well, so with her as protection, I got a better tour and certainly in much better
company.
The White Pavilion Clothiers was one of the shops on the main drag. Jessi led me in there (below). The owner admired Jessi's outfit and asked about it, while totally ignoring Mission. (This was for the best since Jessi could explain her outfit, the stitching and the material of which it was made, where as I probably couldn't successfully identify the colors I was wearing in three guesses.)
Photo: Mission
Photo: Mission
In addition to a nice mix of period clothes, they had
dread Pirate Wesley masks for $5 which gave me new appreciation for the
shop.
Red Jessi said I looked like "the Dread Surgeon Mission," so
henceforth, you can address me as such, thanks to my stylin' new
kerchief (right). Oh, and being the Dread Surgeon Mission (or possibly Zorro
Mission), I henceforth intend to leave my mark on all my patients by
cutting an M-shaped scar into all my surgical work. I am so magnanimous
that I don't even plan to charge for this extra service.
Photo: Mission Across the way from Greg's Weeping Heart store was Hawkin's place, At the Sign of the White Rose. He's a really nice guy - he didn't even comment on my dread pirate Wesley mask. OK, he actually didn't recognize me, so it must be a very fine disguise. However, everyone else who saw me in it laughed, so maybe not. Tony (aka. Papa Ratzi) commented, "You know,
Following that, Stynky accidentally revealed to me the true depths of the Mission mug forgeries. But this story has a long lead-in, so let's start at the very beginning - a very good place to start.
Photo: Mission's Collection
Above: The two mugs that Stynky stole that were most
definitely not mine.
He knew this, because I described mine quite well,
but this didn't stop him
from sending these to me - one at a time.
This all began because someone asked Stynky to clean up
some mugs left over on the Monday following PiP '08. Stynky, being
Stynky, decided that rather than clean the mugs, he would just take them
since the people who hadn't cleaned them clearly deserved punishing for
their breach of etiquette. Meanwhile, I found my
mug and packed it into the box of surgical equipment, which Harry was
kindly sending to me via a pre-paid UPS sticker. Because I was spending
much of the rest of that and the next day with Red Jessi,
I promptly forgot all about this. When I got home, Stynky announced on
the pub that he had three mugs. Not finding mine in my bag, I replied
"Stynky, let me just say, from the bottom of heart, with all due
sincerity and large Bambi-like eyes: you suck... Does one of those
tankards have a glass bottom and a dent near the top? If so, you doubly
suck."
Photo: Mission
So Stynky agreed to send me a mug. Of course, he
sent me a wooden mug, nothing like what I described (above, on the
left). In the mean time, my actual mug arrived with my surgical
gear. I told Stynky he had sent me the wrong mug and that mine had actually
arrived safely, so he could call off the dogs. He pretended to be
stupid...well...and said he was sending my a mug right away. I told him not
to and of course, he continued to be, I mean, continued to play dumb and sent me
another
wooden mug (on the right above.)
Realizing I now had two other poor unfortunate souls' mugs because I was caught in Stynky's twisting web, I decided to be kind to those missing their beloved mugs and post the photos of them on the Pyracy.com website. Willie Wobble claimed the barrel mug, so I sent it to him. Nobody claimed the other mug. Finally, Harry said he thought it was Deadeye Rick's mug. Of course DR has no way of knowing about this since he doesn't go on the internet (he can't read the screen because his eyes are so bad.) So I kept it all year, intending to bring it to him this year. Unlike Stynky, I wouldn't willingly inconvenience someone who is technically legally blind.
Now you may be wondering what happened to the third mug that Stynky claimed to have. It must have been a pewter one because a few months later, a video showed up on MySpace. It supposedly featured my mug being shot by Braze and Cascabel. (Worst of all, they claim to have no knowledge of who 'Mission' even is, which cuts deeper than any alleged mug shooting. It wounds, it does.)
So this is where it stood pre-PiP '09. Stynky gave an alleged Mission Mug to Josh (whom you'll recall from last year's journal is rapidly taking the low road by becoming Stynky's protégé). Josh sold this to Fayma for the princely sum of $20, as mentioned on a previous page. If only this woeful tale of deceit had ended there.
Several of my shipmates, and alleged "friends" then appeared around the camp holding the alleged Mission mug (below left and center). The curious thing about this was that they each believed they had bought the original Mission mug as featured in the faked video. I even caught Josh trying to mock up a photo of me holding one of these forgeries (below right.)
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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While I was wandering around the fort, I happened across Stynky's tent, where I photographed him carefully tucking away a box (below left). Sensing I had caught the thieving dastard (no, that is not spelled incorrectly - look it up) at his own game, I confronted him. He, of course, being Stynky, tried to sell me the supposed original Mission mug, even though there were several others on hand (below right). No conscience whatsoever. He did at least stop trying to pawn them off on people using Josh, much to Josh's chagrin. Turns out the little stinker had made $60 selling authentic Mission mugs. The lad clearly has a bright future in the used car or insurance industry ahead of him.
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Back at the camp, Deadeye Rick happened along. I had given the mug I had kept all year to Callenish, who returned it to poor Rick. Rick told me he had long given up hope on ever getting it back. He had borrowed money from his poor starving mother to purchase another one last year. Finding the original was still around, he was delighted. He sentimentally pointed out a scratch on it where he had fallen upon it during a battle. He eventually hung it on his belt right next to the new one.
If Josh had any conscious at all, he'd give the ill-gotten $60 to Deadeye's poor, debilitated mother so she can buy her insulin this month. And Stynky should just give himself up for his inevitable hanging for crimes against humanity, God and country..
Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
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Photo: Mission
I had run across Boo in the fort, He accused me of blowing him off that
afternoon. I explained that I had had a late breakfast, but since it was
getting on 2pm, we should definitely go for cracked conch at B.O.s. Of
course, he disappeared immediately after that. So Stynky and I headed back
to the campsite and found him talking to another guy who was a sort of
amateur treasure hunter. I listened to him talk about one of his searches
that turned up a 1750 something silver coin, but not much else. It was the
kind of conversation where you just sit there and listen in wonderment.
Photo: Mission
Photo: Mission
Boo eventually spotted me and suggested we ride our
bikes over to B.O.s which suited me, even though I had to walk back to the
fort again to get my bike, which I had left there when I met
Stynky coming into the gate that morning. Back to the fort I went.
(This is the real reason you have to break in your shoes and wear gel
inserts. As Indiana Jones so sagely noted, 'It's not the years, it's the miles.')
It turns out Boo rides in a style that can only be described as 'suicidal.' He had to frequently slow down to let me catch up with him because I didn't really want to attempt some of his daredevil traffic stunts. If he wanted to make a left and he was in the right lane, why... he made a left. In front of three cars! He later told me his wife refused to ride with him.
Photo: Mission
Upon a rival at B.O.s we were greeted by hoots of
"Arrr!" from a table of four very drunk women, who I suspect would
actually appreciate being labeled 'wenches' (left). Of
course, such responses are not
entirely uncommon when you wander
Photo: Mission
Over lunch, Boo regaled me with more of the wonderful tales of his life.
He hinted that he knew where three wrecked ships were, although two of
them had since been discovered by other treasure hunters who had worked them. He
explained that he knew where the third was because the poop deck of a
ship had washed up on shore and he and a buddy had found some other
indicative things
around the area. Another friend of his claimed he had seen glistening goldish
items in the water on one trip in the area, but he couldn't dive because
of some medical problem. It sounded like a fish story to me, but a fishy
treasure hunting story is better than no treasure hunting stories.
He also talked about being a 'cow hunter' awhile back while living in northern-central Florida. As he explained it to me, they were called cow hunters rather than cowboys, because the cows tended to get lost in the overgrowth of central Florida and the cowboys spent most of their time hunting for them. There is a thriving cattle industry in central Florida, something I did not know.
Photo: Mission
Boo also noted that he was really disappointed that
they weren't doing the pub in the fort again this year, telling me that it
was one of the big reasons he had wanted to come back to the event this
year. He told dozens of other interesting tales, most of which I don't
remember well enough to relate, but I spent a fascinating two hours with
him.
On the way back I wound up walking my bike along Duvall because it was so crowded. A young couple spotted me and insisted I pose for a pic with them. Since turnabout is fair play, I insisted they pose for a pic with me (left)