Today is Talk Like a Pirate Day. I’m a real stick in the mud because I’ve always thought that Talk Like a Pirate Day is pretty dumb. I’m sorry that I hate fun.
But hey! I saw some pirates this past Saturday. After visiting Howard Finster’s house, we were in the mood for Raging Burrito so we headed to Decatur. We noticed that a number of pirates all seemed to be headed toward the square and we made a note to go see what all the pirates were doing- after Raging Burrito.
We arrived afterward and saw the pirates milling around, but not actually doing anything. I couldn’t figure out what they were all hanging around for, especially since nothing seemed to be going on. They were just all kind of standing around. The King of Pops was there and I asked what the pirate event was, and he wasn’t sure- said all the pirates just decided to come and hang around.
There didn’t seem to be much point in hanging around anymore, but suddenly it was like the clouds had parted and a beam of light glowed down outside of The Square Pub. A mariachi band! I was instantly filled with joy and scrambled over to get a good seat on one of the pillar-things. I absolutely love mariachi bands. They’re like distilled happiness. I imagine that when you die and if there’s a heaven and if you end up going there, there is a mariachi band right at the gate to welcome you.
For a few minutes I was sitting happily watching the band, enjoying this special treat that fate decided to bestow upon us, reveling in the randomness of life that allows for mariachi bands to materialize out of nowhere to enhance our afternoons.
But then one of the pirates noticed that a mariachi band had appeared in front of The Square Pub and she ran over with her pirate-tambourine thing. She encouraged the mariachi band to come and jam with her pirates. The band seemed confused and hesitant, but acquiesced. Then the pirate took her merry time trying to gather over every and any pirate who happened to have a musical instrument. They all had like, lutes n’ shit. The mariachi band still stood around looking confused, not playing anymore.
I was a little bummed out, because I’d wanted to hear more mariachi and didn’t like the band being interrupted. But then I thought I should stop being a sour sport, because at least pirates and mariachi together should make a good photo op.
After the pirate band was finally assembled, the lead pirate decided that everybody in the square should also participate in some kind of traditional pirate dance, some kind of skip-to-my-lou thing that anyone could learn. I didn’t want to dance, I just wanted to take pictures of the spectacle. The mariachi band continued to look confused, then started to look impatient. It was taking forever and ever for the pirates to set up this complicated line dance. The mariachi band finally gave up and slunk away, returning to The Square pub, where they started up again. Jon and I sat and watched the mariachi band while eating King of Pops and feeling pleased with this unexpected twist in the day.
Poor pirates. If they’d just stopped dicking around they could have jammed with the mariachi band.