My pirate life took a couple interesting turns over the last few weeks. It started at a meeting at work. People there don’t really know what I do in my off hours. Well, at least they didn’t.
I thought I would keep the whole thing under wraps for a while. But then we had a a management meeting and we all had to go around and introduce ourselves, letting others know what we did for fun. As they went down the line, I thought to myself, “do I or don’t I?”
Well, I did. When it came my turn, I teased, “In my spare time I am a…, well, let’s just say a professional entertainer.” I’m sure stripper came to mind. A really bad one at that Several managers immediately pressed for more details and I added, “Suffice it to say, a costumed musician.”
Well, that cleared it all up. Still, when you’re new to a job, you don’t really want to blurt out too soon that you have spent 30 years of your life being a pirate, traveling the world on someone else’s dime. Yes, I mention it immediately on a first date. I think it’s only fair. This person may marry into the whole thing. But it’s not exactly something you mention in a job interview. I don’t know why, but I hear that it’s not a very good idea.
The last time I went roving was in January during my book release. Things got a little busy after that, as you know. So there wasn’t time for much fun.
But on Memorial Day my birthday rolled around. And it’s been a tradition for some time now that I usher in my birthday as a rum swilling pirate. Not all day (this time), mind you, just about half of it.
Eventually it came time to don the gear and head out on the town. But where? It’s been 15 years since I regularly sailed the Seattle waters. Sure, I lived in Florida for only eight years, but before that the vast majority of my pirootin’ was on the Kitsap Peninsula, so Seattle, outside of West Seattle, was something of a rarity.
But when you’ve worn a pirate costume as long as I have, it really doesn’t matter where you go. That’s because of the unique way I was taught to pirate and the unique way it is here in Seattle. For 60+ years now, the Seafair Pirates have roamed the region. People just seem to expect pirates to walk into a bar or restaurant at any moment unannounced. It’s part of life here. And its always welcomed. There’s no need for an invitation or an event like there seems to be on the East Coast. Just put on your gear, walk in alone, sit down, order a drink and let the magic happen.
Yes, the magic. You don’t have to do a damned thing to start the ball rolling outside of ordering a drink. Within seconds, a regular will ask you why you’re dressed up as a pirate. Before you know it, the free drinks are flowing, people are laughing at all the tables, and you’re the center of attention.
It worked years ago; it works now. I put it to the test at The Cabin. It’s a couple miles from the housienda. A great bar with an uneven floor that feels as if the ship is heaving to and fro. A real local’s place.
Like always, Cyren and I waltzed in and sat down at the bar. Within 10 seconds I’d say, we were engaged by the regulars. We were the bells of the ball because of the secret of supply and demand, well, that and the fact that we know how to be the court jesters in a crowd, which is something of an artform. Like fushion jazz, really. No set way to play… you make it up on the fly.
I have to admit that I wondered a bit if things had changed after all these years. Would it still be the same? It was. The customers loved us. The bartender loved us. People told us their stories, we shared ours. Drinks poured, then free shots arrived. Sloe Gin and Pierre pulled in and before we knew it, we had our guitars in hand and were singing the night away.
As I said, magic. This style of pirating truly is magic and if you have your entertainer head in the game, you can hop from one place to another all night long.
Eventually, though, we got hungry and Sloe Gin suggested we head to Edmonds to a place she knew, Demetri’s WoodStone Taverna. We plopped down, ordered up drinks and in no time, all that magic started happening again.
It started when a little boy caught my eye across from me. He was waving to the pirate. So off I went. The manager turned out to be from Clearwater so I beaded her on the way to the restroom. As I sat back down, free food suddenly arrived. A wonderful octopus appetizer on the house. Then a just married groom, a very drunk groom, came over and poured us glasses of wine from his lovely bottle and we toasted him.
So, back to the secret of supply and demand. I learned long ago that a bar doesn’t want 20 or 30 loud, obnoxious pirates in it. The pirates think they do, but the bartender doesn’t unless the place is totally empty. When it’s busier it can be bad for business because the regulars can’t find a seat or get great service. Never piss off a regular in a bar. If you do,you’ll never be welcomed back But with one to five pirates in da house, you don’t put a strain on the place and it’s cheap enough for someone to buy you all a drink just because some pirate just kissed their wife.
But you just can’t sit there and whack each other off. Don’t just hang with your fellow pirates. You have to work the crowd. You have to connect with them personally. It takes work, but it also has the most rewards. As my mentors always said, when you entertain the public and not each other, you get the “E” tickets to Disneyland. For those of you young pups, those were the tickets to the best rides.
Most “pirates” never seem to get this. Their only comfort zone is hanging with other pirates. That’s supposed to be fun. Well, just kill me. The true joy of pirating is working the crowd, mesmerizing a child, making an elderly person in a wheelchair smile, dazzling an audience with your antics and touching another life… connecting with another person on an extremely personal level. That is what it’s all about.
The free food and drink doesn’t hurt either.
In the Emerald City, remembering why it was magical,
– Robb