As you saw a couple days ago, re-enacting and the desire to get laid really took its toll on me. Things had gone so far downhill that I had not only begun to lose my soul, but worse, my Pirate Mojo.
I remember the day I first got my mojo. I was in the party room at the Tropics Hotel in 1983. I was tending bar in the Seafair Pirate party room when the sun rose in the sky and I didn’t care if I ever worked again or ever returned home to my then wife. I just wanted to be a pirate.
It was magical. I could go anywhere, find myself in any situation and know what to do and what to say. It was absolutely intoxicating.
Now, in the re-enacting world, you don’t work the crowd or interact with the public. For many, the perfect weekend is to see absolutely no one else except fellow re-enactors.
But for me, that’s what it’s all about, playing with the public.
At least it was until I lost my Pirate Mojo a couple years ago. Looking back, I don’t really believe I lost it. I believe I was robbed.
“Quit flirting,” I would be told by an ex-whatever, numerous times. “Leave the kids alone and get back to making the fire so we can eat,” another pirate would say. So, to keep the peace, I would set my Pirate Mojo aside. And then one day, it was gone.
I didn’t even know where I had left it or where it had been stolen until I went to Key West over the weekend.
I picked up the trail of my Pirate Mojo at Captain Tony’s. We met up with Long Tom and Sassy from Michigan who were there for the Conch Republic Independence Celebration. That wasn’t their names of course, they just earned them over the weekend. They were a hoot.
My mojo was nearby. The trail led out onto Duval, where we made the tourists forget all about the parade that hadn’t yet rolled by as we took pictures of them stabbing me, me kissing them and generally having an outrageous time touching people’s lives. By the end of the evening I had almost talked an entire bachelor party and the groom to skip out on the wedding and come be pirates for the weekend. Don’t worry, I lied and told the guy he’d be happily married for years to come.
Friday, more nonsense. I was asked to get the crowd excited about the battle between the Conch Republic forces and the U.S. Coast Guard. I was only supposed to make a big deal about the final round of cannon fire. But then the performer bulb went off in my head and I just took off. I got the whole crowd into the battle, telling them that the Coast Guard was going to take their rum and to boo them as they sailed by. A couple thousand people hanging on every word… “Rum for all and all for rum!” was my motto.
That’s me with my boozalier. Pirates have a bandolier with black powder chargers. I modified the idea using flasks instead and told people that for every shot fired by the Coast Guard I would unselfishly take two shots for the Republic.
I was definitely hot on the trail of my stolen mojo and I knew I was close with what happened next. As I walked to the Schooner Bar, three ladies were sitting on Front Street. Long ago I learned how to read eyes and know whether someone wanted you to interact with them. These ladies game me the visual high sign so I stopped and kissed their hands, telling them about the difference between the way a gentleman and a rogue kiss. The older woman who was about 90 was self conscious because some of her teeth were missing. She said one had fallen out the day before and the other three quickly followed suit. Without thinking I said, “Well, maybe they were just lonely and missed the other tooth. I’d miss you the same way. You’re a real looker you are.” Her face just lit up.
As the girls got into the car, I heard one say, “Well that was really fun, wasn’t it?” Made my day.
And that’s really the secret. It’s about making the people you meet the show. They are the center of attention. I am simply a conduit for laughter and happiness, playing the timeless role of jester in the court. And through the interaction, someone has a memory that will last a lifetime. It really is magic.
On Saturday, we sold pub run tickets in the morning, then headed off on the pub run in the afternoon. $28 for a t-shirt and drink at each bar. Now these are like $6 to $8 drinks, so you can see how the math favors the pub runner.
To make a long story short, we eventually caught up with most of the other pub runners and soon we had a rolling party. At Cowboy Bill’s I kissed a cowboy (long story) at the behest of the pub runners. At the Bull and Whistle I modified their “Gone to Pee” tag that you can put on your drink so they don’t dump it so it read “This is Pee”. I thought the bartender was going to die laughing. We then discovered the breathalyzer near the restrooms and everyone started taking turns. Some guy blew .15. He bested me by a long shot. At Hog’s Breath, I taught the pub runners all about Key Lime Shooters and they bought a couple for me as a thank you.
But the true fun was yet to come, at least for me. That night we ended up at the Schooner Wharf. A family with a little boy sat down by the stage. He looked to be about four and he was pretending the bucket they bring beer in was a drum. So I sat down next to him. We started drumming together. Then I convinced him to put the bucket on his head, saying it was good practice for later in life as we didn’t have a lampshade handy. The parents were howling with laughter. Two other little girls soon joined us sitting on the edge of the stage and before you knew it we had a band.
I then taught Noah how to be a performer. I gave him a quarter to seed the bucket with money. Soon others were dropping money in his bucket. His eyes lit up when someone gave him a dollar. It was a magical moment, one in which I knew that my Pirate Mojo had returned and that I had my magic back.
Lesson learned. Don’t let anyone take your magic from you. Hold onto it for dear life, for it’s not only what makes you special, but it’s what fills your soul.
Out on the Treasure Coast full of piratical mischief and mojo once again,
– Robb