Mission

Does the name Rebecca ring a bell? ? ? No. Did I meet her somewhere? (Stynky, this is your Christmas gift. You don't get nothin' else from me this year. Bastid.)

Hmm. Hmmmm. Tell him to fix my icon so it never changes from the skull so I can stop having my post count reset and/or changing my ID if he doesn't reset it. (I wonder how many posts this ID really has...? OTOH, who the hell cares?)

I seriously don't remember.

I don't know what Jib was referring to vis-a-vis his link unless it was causes of death. However, when I first saw the title, it reminded me of a theory (which was popular before the GAoP) that rotting teeth were eaten from the inside by little worms. This is what was thought to cause tooth-aches and rotting from the inside leading to what were basically hollowed out teeth. This may have been because a white nerve was sometimes visible when the tooth was extracted. This is not mentioned in any of the reputable surgeon's manuals I have read from the GAoP and seems to have fallen out of favor by the end of the 17th century. However, there were still a lot of untrained folk-practitioners and quacks who extracted teeth at this time, so it might still have been around as a workable theory amongst these self-taught tooth-drawers.

Speaking of which, all I want for my (pending) birthday is the ability to reset my post count back to 1250 again. Either that or fix it so my skull icon doesn't change. Otherwise I'm going to have to start using one of my several other IDs.

1) Mission? 2) Hmmm....Mission? 3) You know what? I'm going to go with Mission again. As for what they mean... something about caged chickens, something about a wool hat, and...I'm just not going there for #3 Only the last one can be attributed to me and it is (naturally) taken out of a context. (I do so hate have sticky hands and fingers. This is why I don't eat foods like honey. Won't do it. Sticky. Icky.)

I happen to know that you don't know who said "chicken in boxes" or what it means because you told me so. (Although, as I told you when we were talking about that it reminds me of the chicken franchise in Bones (Season 5) called Buck Box. Buck Box! That still makes me laugh. (It was on Bones because they were finding human fingers in the chicken nuggets. I love Bones...)

That isn't what I meant at all. (Although Cutter and Deadeye were clearly separated at birth.)

All jokes aside, there are three twins.

I think you should definitely repeat them here. Edward had a whole bunch of them... hopefully he sees this thread before he forgets them. Stynky had a good one that I said, but I don't remember what it was. Me? I can hardly remember most people's names, let alone precisely what they say. (Broad strokes... I remember the broad strokes...)

I know you knew that! Now you went and gave it away!

Stynky was talking about the numbered crew photo I put up in years past where we went and identified everyone by number. 1st Mate Matt posted a crew photo taken by Caribbean Pearl this year in the 2011 Results / Picture Thread which I could go through and number but my back hurts. And the dog ate my homework. Still, I wanted to put up a link to that from here in a separate thread (so it can be easily found in the future). Folks are tagging the photo on her Facebook page, although not everyone is tagged yet. So check it out and see if you can help. (I hope everyone can see it. FB is sort of weird with photos...) Link to Crew Photo

Na - instead I hung out with friends, drank beer and ate Lobster Pot Pie . . . not to mention celebrating with a Fort Taylor FULL of pirates - I'm not sure a Birthday can get much better than that. That was a highlight of the trip, even if we didn't actually know it was your birthday. (I definitely would have had the staff come over and sing a bad rendition of Happy Birthday, or possibly What do you with a drunken sailor? if I'd have known.)

See if you can find Lob the monkey in the crew photo. I have a few up at the Pirate Surgeon's Journal Facebook page. They're from the early part of the event, though. I need to sift through the mass of photos I took over the weekend and select some good ones.

Hey, Captain Jim! Good to hear from you. I had breakfast with Keith, Lily and Stynky at Blue Heaven this morning before I left Key West and we were just saying how much we missed you and Patrick and some others from years past who weren't able to make it.

;That is interesting. I am often asked what the survival rate was and I usually said, "Well I read somewhere that this operation..." Except I usually don't quite know where I read it.I know naval ship's surgeons were required to keep track of mortalities by disease type in their Journals, but I don't think that info has been collected and sifted through.

I guess this is a post-script or something. It's not really mine, but I think it sums things up nicely. Mike the Skeleton Pirates used this as his Facebook status: "I barely ate...barely slept...drank Rum the entire weekend, usually in a dark, candlelit tavern...had no electricity...did NOT shower for 4 days...and lived in a canvas tent in a historic brick fortress with about 150 other Pirates. .....& it was the best weekend of my life. HUZZAH!!! But really, I need a shower now..."

Things got a little hazy at this point. Actually, they got a lot hazy. I went into the pub where Bawdy Be, Spike and Cannibal Chrispy were singing. In fact, there may have been more people singing than that, but those are the ones I recall at this moment. Other than me, there were only a handful of people in there. So I grabbed the end of a bench near the band and listened. It reminded me of the first time I was at PiP in 2007 and was struck by how much it must have been like the pubs of yore. It struck me that more people were needed to listen, so I went off to find some folks. I went out particularly to find Stynky and Michael, but I was...a bit wobbly... Jill/Wendy was standing pretty close to the exit of the pub, so I told her she had to come join me in the pub. I had planned to put her at my table and go after more people, but I never got that far. Wendy started trying to light the candles in the ship's wheel candelabra which threw me off my mission. (A mosquito could have had the same effect at this point.) We sat together on the bench and I tried to sing along with the songs. (Which was probably not a good idea since I didn't know most of the words and was quite drunk. It seemed like a good idea at the time.) Nature called and by the time I returned the pub was quite full. I believe at this point (for I am not entirely sure) the bench I had started out on was full with Wendy, Youngblood and some others on it. (Possibly Diosa and that guy whose name I don't know.) So I sat on the floor under the candelabra. I placed my hat on the floor as well so I could hear the music (because the hat serves as a giant sound dampener) which is when it got wax dripped all over it. Yes, the Patrick Hand Original hat now has wax splashed all over the far side. So I got up and forced my way back onto the bench with Wendy. (Someone later told me to put it in the freezer. Since my condo freezer was empty I did this on Monday. Unfortunately, the felt seems to really like the wax, even when I tried scraping it with a butter knife.) I suspect the Patrick Hand Original Planter's hat now has a new feature - partial waterproofing. Stynky said I should just leave it that way as it added character. Of course, Stynky is the same person who puts on makeup so that he looks more filthy and tells people that the reason his character is named Stynky Tudor is because the character he is portraying is lactose intolerant. Now it gets really fuzzy and my account is going to be just plain useless to you. I know I talked at length with Youngblood when Wendy had left and I learned some really interesting things about him, including a list of the events he's been to, but there is no way I could recite that here. I do remember him telling me that his first event was PiP 2008, where I recall him ganging up on a performer with the help of the Thatcher kids. I think he also gave me a stock tip that sounded really good, but I forgot the name of it. Otherwise I'd put it in here and we'd all make a killing. By this point the pub had filled to the point where it was packed and everyone knew the words and was singing. About the only person I vividly recall being there was Zach, our young writer. His parents were there as well, hanging out in a different spot. I was pleased to see him because it was such a seminal experience for me so many years ago, although Zach seemed to know more of the words to the songs than I did! At some point I toddled out of the pub and got into a conversation with some folks from Key West. I recall the person I was speaking with was quite a bit more sober than I and I seem to remember him telling me he had just taken a shower. While I was listening to him talk, I thought I'd check to see just how drunk I was. You know how when you do that and the world starts swirling? It was far worse than that. I so lost my equilibrium that I staggered backwards about 4 steps. I recall the guy I was talking with being quite surprised. (He probably thought I was so taken aback by whatever it was he was talking about that I had to walk away.) Shaking off my stupor I decided not to do that again, and walked back up to him and resumed the conversation. It was clearly time to quit drinking. Stynky and Michael were over in Edward/Keith and Lily's tent talking, so I wandered over there after finishing that fascinating conversation I keep referring to, but of which I cannot recall a single word. I detoured over to the water (because this night was going to require a lot of water) and filled the fish mug to the brim. Then I sat down and proceeded to listen to Michael, Stynky, Edward and anyone else who might have been there, including the fort ghosts, talk. I probably interjected things as well. I was probably also told to use my inside voice at least once. Lily was working the gate, so the group decided to take a bottle of mead over to her. I guess she always works the last shift of gate watch (1 - 3 am on Sunday), which I think is very nice of her considering how much work she has to do to get this thing together. This year particularly so while Mama Ratsey cares for Poppa and is unable to be in Key West for the event. I hung around there for a while and then decided I should get my bike and go back to the condo. I had had several mugs of water by this time and was reasonably sure I could get there. Stynky tried to stop me, thinking I was still to drunk to make it, but I assured him I was just going to walk the bike back. (I lied. Once I got out of their sight, I climbed on the bike.) A very enjoyable evening, in all. Monday. Not all that much happened today. Stynky called me, resulting in a trip to, where else? The Rum Barrel. More chowder. (It is good chowder.) We then went back to the fort to pick up the 73 pounds that is the surgeon's chest and load it into Stynky's car. He had agreed to take it to the UPS site with me. This is actually sort of comical because Stynky has a bad back and can throw it out if he does the wrong thing. I had a ruined left shoulder and right wrist and was unable to even lift the thing with my right hand. But we got it into the trunk and all was well. As usual, people were in their street clothes, which looked very strange after a weekend of seeing them in garb. Many of the tents had been torn down and there were cars all over in the fort. I didn't get any photos of this, so I have no idea why I am putting this in here since I won't have anything to go with it. (It's a service to you, my readers. I want you to feel like you're here.) I saw Zach and his family over in the common area tent, so I went over there and chatted with Jen and Zach some more. I asked him what his favorite part of the weekend was and he diplomatically said he couldn't decide. I pressed him and he admitted that being on the cannon crew and firing the cannon had been one of them for sure. He even liked the Saint Barabara/application of the stinky swab part of it! Speaking of that, I believe I forgot to talk about that. Most of you probably know about this. If this event is your first time being on a cannon crew, you have to be inducted into the Order of Saint Barbara. This is done by rolling the swab - a large Q-Tip like device used to clean the cannon - to your face. (Or, when the Viceroy is doing it and there are women in the group, they rub the swab on their chest. (Lovely, eh?) They did this Sunday afternoon right before the fort closed. Among the people who had fired cannons for the first time were Zach, Sherry Walp and Beowulf. I didn't see it at first, but once I did, I ran over and announced that Michael Bagley hadn't been inducted. He kept telling me to be quiet, but that naturally made me yell it out louder. So they drafted him into the line. He may never forgive me, but this is pretty much what Mary Diamond did to me at PiP in 2007. So I was repaying the favor. Or something... Things are always a bit melancholy on the packing up day and we had no reason to be there, so Stynky and I left and came back to my condo to be geeks and work on the web. We also had to mail my surgeon's gear crate and boat anchor, but the UPS delivery depot didn't open to the public until 5pm, so we were sort of waiting for that. We did deliver it and since we were so near another favorite restaurant of mine, Mangrove Mama's, I asked him if he wanted to go there. He said yes, right after I offered to buy. Mangrove Mama's is just off A1A and is painted in what can only be called a bright shade of green. The waiter was particularly bizarre. Every time he brought something over to our table he would stand back and reach it out towards us, often holding it almost on the tips of his fingers. He did this very slowly and preciously. Stynky wondered out loud if he might be on quaaludes. (Speed was not one of his major qualities.) Stynky also suggested that he might be trying to avoid bumping his aura into ours as he served things. The food at Mangrove Mama's is excellent, however, and we enjoyed our meals greatly. I suggested we have Key Lime pie and, since I was buying, Stynky agreed. I noted that real Key Lime Pie was not green, but yellow. Green key lime pie was not made with key limes, but with regular limes. Stynky said based on the bright green paint scheme, we were going to get green pie, not yellow. However, it was the real thing and he had to admit that when the waiter came back to remove the plates from behind his aura barrier. So that's pretty much it for the Key West Pirate Event '11 Journal. Several people I spoke with agreed that this was one of the better events here. It was wonderful fun and I personally met several interesting new folks. I hope the four of you who made it through all this rambling enjoyed it. I'll start working on the web edition (Now improved with added photos!) once I reach that frozen tundra I call home. (Right now I am sitting on my couch, legs stretched out on the coffee table with the patio doors at both ends of the condo wide open. Ahh!)

So, about dinner. Wait. About the group photo. The group photo was scheduled for 5:15, which means it was really going to start getting organized about 5:30. This gave Michael Bagley plenty of time to get photos of people abusing Lob the Monkey for Lob's Facebook page (and the Journal.) He did so up until about 5:20 and then people started moving towards the group photo area. I had originally heard that it was a Pub photo but everyone joined in, so we're going to go with 'group photo.' It actually only took about 10 minutes to do, which has to be a PiP record. (At last from my experience. It usually takes at least a half hour.) DB Couper was the primary photographer with reporter Maria De Los Angeles and several assorted tourists serving as back-up photographers. You can see Maria's photo on the Fort Taylor Invasion Facebook page here. I was holding Lob up as he is a Pub Member. Or a participant of the group. Or a monkey. He was there. When that broke up, Stynky, Michael and I decided to go out for dinner on our own. No trip to Key West can be complete without a trip to the Rum Barrel, where someone told me they have good corn and clam chowder. (Michael had actually been pulling for another restaurant so that his weekend Key West experience would have some dining variety, but Stynky's Civic has now been trained to go to the Rum Barrel. We sat on the rooftop patio and relaxed with some beers. For the bit of variety that I could milk from this outing, I decided to try the Lobster Pot Pie. It was quite good and not too filling. (I figured it would be pretty heavy fare and I was wrong. It was just right.) We sat around and talked about all manner of things from old computers to video games to re-enacting to the Pub to F-Troop. F-Troop came up because we were talking about Jack and Brig, whose last name is Permenter. I made some joke reference to Captain Parmenter from the F-Troop series that was so amazingly funny that I can't remember what it was. Michael didn't get it. It turns out that he has never seen F-Troop! This is yet another one of the harsh conditions that come with growing up in Canada. I know Michael well and I suggested that upon returning home, he hie forth and procure a copy because we share a warped sense of humor. The show only two seasons (the black and white first season and the color second season). It's one of the goofiest comedies I can think of, reminding me strongly of the old Bugs Bunny cartoons. (Stynky noted that several people had accused him of stealing his hat from Agarn which will surely lead to a photo comparison on the web page version of the Journal.) Michael saved Canada from his humor blunder by telling us the story of the Great Canadian Wallpaper Festival, which was written up by a viking era re-enactor called Tempus Peregrinator. I would retell the whole thing here, but it is a bit long and convoluted and I write enough long and convoluted stuff without borrowing it from someone else. Still, I can't resist reprinting a little bit of it. "...there were many excellent suggestions for further story embellishment. Probably the most famous (or infamous) came from Kess, who came up with the idea of snow ants. Snow ants, which are of course snow white, and travel in huge packs, are quite invisible against the snow. Usually, the only way to know they're nearby is when moose disappear in a puff of white with a little spattering of red." And that's all you get here. Fortunately, it's all on-line, so you can go and read it for yourself. We dawdled quite a bit (enough so that Stynky had to go down and feed the meter again), savoring dinner. I told them then and I tell you now - these are actually some of the best moments in an event for me. Two beers later, it was time to return to the fort. Lily was at the entry of the fort with one of the Fort workers, so we messed with them. Inside the fort, people were just lining up for dinner. We wanted alcohol, so we wandered around for a bit scouting for some. Stynky suggested we find Edward/Keith whom he knew had mead. Who should walk by but Edward holding two plates of food! Serendipity! Or not. We begged for a bottle and Edward said he had to take the food out to the gate to Lily and the fort worker. Since we had already eaten and hadn't figured out how to get drinks while everyone else was standing in the food line, we went with him. (Can you say desperate?) On the way, we ran into another fort person coming back from the gate in one of those go cart mobiles they have. Edward explained that he and his drink-hungry bodyguard phalanx were taking food out to the gate. A friendly fellow, he offered to turn around and take us all out there. So Edward get in the passenger seat and Michael, Stynky and I all clamored into the back. It wasn't at all padded, but it beat the heck out of walking all the way to the front gate in period shoes. I tried really hard to get photos of all this, but I have a feeling they're going to be sort of iffy. (Not unlike the rest of the Journal, in fact.) We delivered the package(s) and then drove back to the fort. This was fun, but was not helping us to find drinks at all. Edward strode off with determination and we tried to decide whether we should follow him or not. Apparently the correct answer was 'not.' He wasn't headed anywhere near his tent and the mead. We must have looked a motley, sorry lot, standing there outside the common area while everyone dined, slobbering about alcohol. I looked with disgust at Stynky. Where was the Stynky of old, who could conjure mead from the willing hands of his fellow re-enactors without paying for it? He said you had to work it carefully and laid out a plan, which was not followed at all. Well, Michael and Stynky were clearly on the lookout for a mark, but I thought we were going to wind up being sad pandas based on our record so far. Apple Booty spotted us and came over. She hugged Stynky and then me (but not Michael) and started chatting. She clearly had some alcohol somewhere based on how incredibly friendly she was being. She said to me with great mock sorrow, "I forgot to buy my whip cream!" Ah... Uh... OK. Ahem. Gathering a few wits, I asked, "Whip cream for what." She grinned with a naughty twinkly and started explaining how last year she had found some alcohol infused whip cream that they had been eating last year. (And I will state, for the record, that I am damned sorry not to have seen that. "Stynky has a car," I volunteered. "Hey Stynky, Apple Booty needs you to take us to buy some whip cream." "What?!" The look on his face was great. Then I explained the whole story. Sensing this was someone that could help us in our quest, Stynky started explaining our plight. "Oh, Klaus has some!" Apple Booty said brightly and she bounded off. Now THAT'S the Stynky we all know and love. She returned with Klaus who was holding a bottle of something that looked sort of red. They probably told us what it was, but we didn't really care at that point. Apple Booty grabbed the bottle and proceeded to pour drinks for MIchael and I. Stynky drank straight from the bottle. Michael noted that it tasted a bit like cherry cough syrup, to which Apple Booty responded, "I know, right?" Still, it was a start. I later learned that they were serving very good rum punch with the food and we could have had that at any time during our quest. Ah, well... Having fulfilled the alcohol mission, we wandered over to the dining tables where the dinner was winding down. We sat with Zach and his parents, Bill and Jen. Michael sat with Zach and his dad and I sat opposite by Jen. We talked a little about Zach's book, which she told me he had started when he was 11. (Everyone else had told me he started when he was 14, but they also told me he was 17 so every ones can just go take a flying leap.) I believe I said something about how neat the moral aspect of the story was and that got us talking about perception. Jen was a fellow believer in the idea that perception colors everyone's world. I explained that I thought the truth was out there, but it was impossible to reach with all the filters we naturally construct in our minds. She agreed, so I asked her if she had ever read the book Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by Richard Bach. She had not so I suggested she read it forthwith. (Well, not that night.) It is my favorite book and I have read it at least 20 times. Zach perked up when he heard Richard Bach and said, "Jonathan Livingston Seagull!" I agreed that was another book and then Bill joined into the conversation. It turns out he has read Illusions several times! I must say, Zach's parent's seemed like the coolest parents in the world. They encouraged him to explore his passion for writing and also let him get out and have experiences like the Fort Taylor Pirate Invasion and the Patrick O'Brien tour. Speaking of which, I returned to the fort and found my notebook. The ship Zach had sailed on at 100,000 words was the HMS Surprise. Back at the event, music started coming from Ole Zach's tavern, so I decided to stagger over and check it out.

If it's really your birthday, you should celebrate with corn and crab chowder.

For those concerned, most of my bike wounds seem to be healing up pretty well. (So you can both relax.) I also have my glasses back, so you can rest assured that any typos I make today are due to my own bad writing style. I actually made it a point to write things down yesterday in a little notebook I always bring to the fort and then lose. Yesterday appears to be no different; I have no idea where it is. If I find it, I'll correct all the details I now about to butcher. The very first thing that happened was that Diosa's friend whose name I didn't know came up to me and made it a point to introduce himself. He had actually read the Text Journal and wanted to correct that for me. (Sorry Joe.) It's kind of funny how much things have changed in the 5 years I have been doing this event. The first PiP Journal I wrote in 2007 was for people who couldn't come; no one else saw it. Now with the iPads, smart phones and such, everyone can read it the minute I post it. People come up to me in the fort and tell how funny this or that comment was! Anyhow, upshot: Diosa's companion:Joe aka Antonio Gumbatz. That's sort of fun to say, isn't it? Gumbatz! You can find out more about him on their crew's website: Presenting the Past. The next order of business was bidding Jack, Mae and Brig goodbye. They had a 8 or 9 hour drive home. I had several interesting conversations with Jack this weekend about his re-enacting plans. He is the Archangel's Quartermaster and was telling me about some fascinating research he is working on about victualing a ship. He explained that there were all sorts of documents out there on the food that would be required for naval ships, although he was targeting merchant ships (which are purported to have had better food than the navy.) I have spent some time gather info on the shipboard food myself since it plays and important role in the health of the crew. (John Woodall goes on in signature sea surgeon's guide The surgions mate for at least 30 pages about constipation. Since that was prepared for the East India Company, I am going to guess that the food may not have been that much better.) Jack is also working on a fop character who is the son of a manure seller.Apparently this character is now a tailor, allowing him to make the sort of finery required for such a character on a limited budget. He thought it would be fund to give the Viceroy a run for fop money. Jack explained that he planning to shave his beard for the role, which I can't imagine. (I mean, he can't have been born with it, but for the past 5 years he's always had it.) He and Captain Sterling have work out some sort of intricate history for the relationship between the dandy tailor and the Captain which he explained to me. (I don't remember much more of it than what I just told you. It was wonderfully complex and between all the stories people have told me and the alcohol...well...) I set up my surgeon's stuff after which Michael and Stynky grabbed me so that Stynky could get his required daily allowance of Rum Barrel Corn and Crab Chowder. It was about noon, and they were in a huge hurry to leave. Michael had some serious leadership role vis-a-vis the small arms. He may have been in charge of it, although several people seemed to think they were in charge of it, so I don't really know. Whatever the case, he had on the battlefield much before the 2 o'clock start time. Stynky also has a role in the battle - checking weapons and/or running parts of the safety meetings, so he had to be there too. Me? Even when I do have to be there, I sometimes am not as the infamous 2007 Surgeon's PiP trip to B.O.s Fish Wagon will attest. Point being (yes, there is a point) they were in a mad rush so I did my best to pretend I was too. We were a well oiled machine, we were, with Stynky dropping us at the door, giving us his order (although it was pretty obvious by now) and rushing off to park his car. Our waitress was Russian and there is a photo of her that I hope came out. Her name was Tanya and she told me where she was from in Russia, but I don't remember where that was, exactly. She asked us where we were from and of course Stynky's answer was pretty confusing since he has lived everywhere in the country, possibly in two or more places at the same time under various aliases. When he said California, she lit up and told us a little of her family that lived there. OK, you may not think this is the best Journal fodder ever, but I have the photo and I personally find the routes waitpeople take to get the Key West a little fascinating. If it came out, the photo should feature a neat picture of a boat frame that is chained to the ceiling in the restaurant, so you can all look forward to seeing that in a few weeks. I hope. The meal actually went like clockwork. (Well, we had practiced the day before and Stynky is practically an expert with all his Corn and Crab trial runs) and got back in plenty of time to sit around and wait at the fort. As it happens, there was some hold up on getting the pirate's supply of black powder cartridges to them and everyone was stuck sitting in the common area of the fort while they waited. I took this opportunity to chat with some folks. Caribbean Peal was dressed as Tia Dalma (which figures into the plot of the day's battle, although I was never completely clear on just how. Despite the fact that this was covered at the safety meeting.) Pearl makes for a wonderful Tia Dalma. Add her rapid-fire Puerto-Rican spiced accent to the mix and you've got something. I asked her to pose with Mike the Skeleton Pirate and Stynky. I said, "Wow! Three camera hogs in one photo." That isn't quite what I meant, but once you say something stupid like that you just have to go with it. I was really trying to say that these three posed for lots of photos and always looked just so when they did it. Stynky knew I was fooling around, Mike seemed slighly wounded by the comment (sorry, Mike!) and Caribbean Pearl was ticked off. So she started hexing me in her wonderfully accented English. Then she came over and started chatting with me in a friendly way until she saw the opportunity and smudge my palm black. "Ha! I trick you! I was just trying to give you the black spot for calling me camera hog!" Then off she went to pose with some tourists. I was sitting next to a vivid woman with red hair named Foxy Gengen, who was commenting that there were never any photos of her during the battle. I said I was pretty sure she was in last year's Surgeon's Journal (although looking through it, I now see that I was mistaking her for another red-haired woman named Octavia Bordeaux. Sorry Foxy! I will make up for this in this year's Journal.) She told me that she was in a re-enacting crew (which I think I wrote down in my little notebook.that I don't have). However, she and her boyfriend also belong to something called a Pirate Social Club in Fort Myers, Florida called...darn. I know that's in the notebook. Mike the Skeleton Pirate is also a member. I found this out when I asked her about the bandanna she had tied around her boot. She said this club... man, it's on the tip of my virtual tongue...had over 300 members. I asked how you joined such a thing and she answered, "You have to go through an initiation. All you have to do is be flogged and drink with the crew and you're in!" She proudly informed me that she was one of only three girls to be an official harlot for the club. I wandered back to my surgeon's table as there were people there to explain surgery to. It has been a very good weekend for the displays and I had a really good time with my stuff and the crowds. Just as I was finishing, I saw the pirates leaving the fort, so I guessed that the powder had arrived and the battle would begin soon. So I followed them. I had decided to sit on the British side today. I haven't hung out with the British since 2007 and I wanted to remedy that. The Brits had four cannons and four contingents of smartly-dressed red coats. Chad and Sansanee were on one crew. Chrispy had another crew. And Beowulf had joined a crew! In fact, he was announcing commands and lighting the cannon once the battle started. It is a very different feel on the British side (as it should be.) There was a great deal more formality and presentation. It practically felt oppressive when compared with hanging out on the pirate side. It was far, far different than my experience in 2007 when it was me and Mark Moss manning one cannon and two other redcoats manning the other. (I didn't even have a red coat!) They did a presentation of the cannon crews which I believe was called something very officious, the name of which, naturally, I don't recall. All the crews lined up beside their cannons and the Viceroy was led down the line of soldiers by Gareth. (Gareth was in charge of the British cannon crews. There's probably a title for him to, but I sure don't know what it is.) The Viceroy went down the line and asked various people if they were happy, if the food was good, if their boots were comfortable and so forth. They all replied affirmitively, mainly because Gareth had told them right before this started that they were to reply affirmatively. And maybe throw something in about how the gun captain should be better paid. I happed to know the battle plan (from the safety meeting, naturally) and it involved me dying if I took the field. What with my sore shoulder and wrist, I decided not to take the field except to grab some photos. Apple Booty (I believe I called her Apple Bottom before, a Freudian memory slip on my part) was sitting on the ground and that looked like a good idea. Everytime I saw her this weekend, I had made a pointt to tell her I had rooted for her. So I strolled over and said, "I want you to know I was rooting for you mate. Honestly." She actually laughed at this, even though this must have been the seventh time I'd done it. I rather laboriously lowered myself to the ground, feeling that shoulder and wrist all the way. She is a real estate appraiser who lives in Baltimore. She said she was really busy, so I asked her about the real estate market in this economy. She explained that the Virginia/DC/Maryland market was always hopping. She works on Pirates magazine in whatever capacity they need her. I tried to pin her down on a title, but she really didn't seem to have one. The battle finally started with the pirates firing one of their cannons. The British went through the procedure of loading their cannons and then stood at ready for the command to fire. Gareth appeared to be in charge of the left two cannon groups and the Viceroy appeared to be in charge of the right. I had noticed yesterday that they were a bit slow to respond to the pirate cannons being fired and now I knew why. Again, it was a very different experience than the pirate side. As for the battle, it kind of went this way... First there was cannon fire back and forth, with the pirates having small arms to back them up. When all the powder was gone, a group of pirates, led by Michael Bagley, made a sneak flank attack and tried to capture one of the British cannons. (This seemed kind of funny given that the battlefield is completely open. There could not be any real sneaking here. Although, to be quite honest I didn't see them until they ran up to the cannons, so what do I know?) A skirmish followed between the British and the ragtag team of pirates, resulting in several people being killed. I think all the pirates were killed, but don't quote me on that. The rest of the two groups (the main body of pirates and the British) approached each other and a melee resulted. By the end of it, everyone had been killed except Youngblood and several garbed photographers who apparently didn't get the message that they were supposed to be dead. This is where I think Tia Dalma figured in although I was so far from the center of the battle that I didn't see her. I guess you had to be on the fort wall to understand her role in all this. Somehow she was responsible for everyone dying. Voodoo or something. You know. Youngblood ran around the field like a berzerker screaming about finding someone to kill. He then threw off his red coat (he was a Brit) and announced he was turning pirate. I think. I couldn't hear that well and I was futzing with my camera zoom trying to get some decent photos for the Journal. It was a very good battle, the best of the weekend and all the crowd that were near me and Apple Booty applauded when it was over. I trooped back to the fort with Foxy Gengen. We were stopped on the trail by her boyfriend who made her dump powder out of her pouch. I think that was his job. Back in the fort, I resumed my surgical explanations to a very decent crowd of people. Several folks from the battle came up claiming wounds, but they saw that I was holding forth and decided not to interrupt me. (Notice that I am not putting the "dodging the bullet" comment in here. Oh, wait...) I had spent part of yesterday and most of today trying to pin Zach down so I could get his story. He is 16 years old and is writing a book on pirates. He's quite intelligent and very well informed from the discussions I had had with him earlier. His book is historical fiction centered around a group of teens who wind up having to fend for themselves on the high seas during the Golden Age of Piracy. It has a moral component that focuses on working together and finding win/win solutions to problems the group encounters. They meet several historical pirates during their journeys. Talking with his mom, she told me he had been writing this book since he was 11 years old. He currently has 300,000 words and is in the middle of revising parts of the book to make it more seamless. (This is in stark contrast to the way the Surgeon's Journals are written. They are more seamy than seemless and are rarely re-written. Some people say they're hardly written at all. But I digress...) Zach has had several adventures while writing his book, which he measures by word count. (Seriously.) When he reached 100,000 words, he went on a tall ship, the name of which you'd immediately recognize if I put it in here except, naturally, it's written in the notebook I don't have. At 200,000 words he went on a cruise that was in honor of Patrick O'Brien (writer of the Master and Commander book series.) Zach explained that it was attended by several serious historians, which was why he wanted to take the cruise. While at a very formal dinner one night on the cruise, he was sitting with a couple explaining his book, the storyline and moral aspects. The woman asked several questions of him. At the end of the evening, she gave him her business card and told him to contact her once the story was complete. She was from a major publishing company the name of which you'd immediately recognize if I had my stupid notebook with me so I could write it down here. I told him a little about my Sea Surgeon's book, which hasn't, technically, been started yet. He encouraged me to get started and stop researching the stupid topic. (OK, he didn't put it like that exactly. I am projecting my own feelings on the matter here.) A very nice young man. We have all been encouraging him to visit the Pyracy Pub. I suggested he particularly get in touch with Ed Fox. Zach was quite impressed when I explained that Ed had written books. Five o'clock rolled around and I decided to pack all my surgeon's gear in my old kit box. (And smile! Smile! Smile!) Having accomplished that (mainly for that last stupid joke), I went in search of Stynky and Michael. We had plans for dinner. Very vague plans.

Wasabe had come over to the Surgeon's table earlier in the day and told me about a carpenter's saw he had forged. Wasabe runs the forge at the fort at various events, including the Fort Taylor Pirate Invasion. He said he would bring it by for me to see, which he did. He even left it with me, so I showed it during a couple of my presentations when I was explaining how germs weren't very well understood during period and the surgeon would sometimes borrow the carpenter's saw if his blade broke. As I was folding up shop, it occurred to me that I should return it. So I took it with me as I went off to search for Stynky, who (as you'll recall from the previous post) was leaving "right now." I didn't find Stynky. Rather than worry about it, I went up to the forge and return Wasabe's saw. Wasabe had Leatherback and Youngblood assisting him in the forge, but he was standing at the front of the forget explaining what was going on, so I handed him his saw. "What do you think?" I told him it was nice work and that I had used in my display a bit. Wasabi is one of those irrepressible people who always has a twinkle in his eye and is eager to tell you a story. He has a great deal of knowledge and has clearly been blacksmithing for quite a while. He told me that he loved to make things like the saw and was happy to have the fort forge to use for his projects. As we were talking, Jill-Handed Red/Wendy spotted me. She had been sitting on a bench alongside the forge. "I was looking for you!" "Me?" "Yeah! I wanted to kidnap you to go and watch the sun set over the fort wall." I had an errand to run (I was looking for my FTPI laminated pass in the Jackmobile because it was not in my wallet any longer), but I promised to return to the forge so we could do that. I didn't find the pass, but I did still find her at the forge, so we went to watch the sunset. Now careful readers may recall that in my last post I was going to return to my condo to update the Journal. Ah, the best laid plans... it's far more fun to go and do anything with Jill-Handed Red. She is another irrepressible spirit. She actually bounces up and down when telling you something that excites her. So we climbed up to the fort wall to watch the sunset. Eventually DB Couper and his wife appeared. DB started telling us jokes, none of which I can reprint here. (This is not because they were naughty or offensive - which they all were - but because I can't remember a joke to save my life. Eventually Greg Hudson and Sherry showed up and climbed up on the fort wall to observe. I pointed out an iguana which DB's wife had found resting halfway down the fort wall. Greg and Sherry peered over the edge and found another one! I guess the fort wall is a major attraction spot for local iguanas. We took several pictures, although my bruised shoulder and wrist had really stiffened up as the day went along and all this climbing up and down the wall stuff was not helping at all. But Wendy is so animated that you can't hardly say no to her. She particularly wanted to get a good one of me on the fort wall like she did last year. (That is the photo in my signature graphic. Wendy took that with my camera and it is a favorite of mine.) So she futzed with my little Canon and put it into a mode that it will no doubt be in until someone else futzes with my camera as I need glasses to read the screen and I have never been that interested in learning its intricacies. I bought it for the point-and-shoot part of it. She insisted I climb up on the fort wall for the 27th time in front of the sun. Which I did, because I'd love to have another picture like last year's and... it's Wendy. Then she wanted it with my hat (you have to have the Patrick Hand Original Hat), which concerned me because the wind was blowing in just the right direction that if I stood where she wanted, it would wind up in the moat. I've heard bad things about the contents of the moat and was afraid it would dissolve on contact. Not a good resting place for it - Cafe Sole would be much preferred. It did, in fact, blow off several times, but never into the moat. Finally Wendy gave my camera to DB and climbed up to stand beside me and hold it from behind. The sun set behind the clouds (which Wendy apologized for although I didn't really care. I went up there to hang out with her.). Then someone in the fort started yelling that the last bus for the parade was leaving and I thought it was time to hie down to the fort, see if I could find the twins, and board the bus. They were both busily making themselves up at their tent (you have'ta look good for the parad, I guess). Jack had been on and off about going (what with his feet and all, I suppose) but had decided to go too. Mae and Brig had purchased candy to throw, so I started eating that. The finally finished their preparations and we all clambered towards the bus. Who should we run into right by the last bus to the parade but... Stynky! "Are you ready?" he asked. "For what" I replied. "To go back to the condo." "I thought you were leaving right away?!" I told him I was taking the last bus to the parade. He had no intention of going to the parade, so he left without me. The bus trip was pretty uneventful, nothing at all like the trip in 2007 to the parade where people had been jammed in tightly and singing sea shanties. On board were Jack, Mae, Brig and I, Beowulf, Shay and madPete., a very colorful guy who I didn't know and another guy who was singing a shantie that I think he had written. He also had to rats on his shoulder. I asked him if he was Ratbeard, which he said he was not. I don't recall what his actual name was, but he commented that several people had called him Ratbeard. (Regular readers iwill recall him from the PiP 2009 Surgeon's Journal.) Shay and madPete had asked to be taken to the Rum Barrel, which the bus driver cheerfully agreed to do. (He was a nice guy. Of course it never occurred to me to photograph him and now that he's been mentioned here, I am going to be kicking myself for the next five minutes. (Not something everyone can do, especially with a bum shoulder) When we got to the Rum Barrel, Shay and mP debussed. I noted that if we got off now, we could avoid the mile and a half or whatever it is of walking in period shoes. See our plan was to walk the parade, ending up downtown and then dine at the Rum Barrel. Brig was determined to be in the parade, however, so we stuck it out. We were let off right near the beginning of the parade. The guy I didn't know suggested we just stay there and wait for the parade to start so that we could join it when it when the pirates got to us. That sounded pretty good to me as my dogs were already barking a bit. That lasted for about two minutes. Then I suggested we go find the pirates. So off we went. Naturally the pirates were somewhere near the end of the parade. We did find them. Mae, Brig and Jack hadn't gotten too much sleep and were still a bit road weary. They eventually decided to sit on the sidewalk while we waited. I chatted with Beowulf, Chrispy and MIke, the Skeleton Pirate. He had his mask out, so I checked it out. It's very hard and durable. I asked him if it was comfortable and he replied, "Not really/" He said there was padding inside, but it was pretty old. The airflow was a bt limited, except through the eye hole and the mouth when it was open. "Sometimes I open it in pictures just to cool my neck," he explained. The mask had to be tight for him to do his statue bit. It's still really cool, but it makes you realize how must all suffer for our art. Or something. Mae was looking a bit uneasy and mentioned that she was developing a headache. The parade was doing a great job of not getting started and, after nearly an hour of inaction, Brig said Mae needed to get some food and asked us if we wanted to bail. I was only there to avoid getting kidnapped, so I readily agreed. Jack was for it. So off we went. We took all the back roads so as to avoid the parade crowd and finally found Whitehead street. I suggested several restaurants, including an Italian restaurant called Abgondonza. Everyone seemed to like that so that's where we went. The food was good although the service was sort of slow. The waitress did get us bread promptly, causing Mae to bloom again and rejoin the living. Brig announced that she really, really wanted to have a shot in the Green Parrot bar because she had passed it so many times, but had never been there. Everyone agreed that this was a good plan. So we left the restaurant, jogging over to Duval in the hopes of finding a cigar shop for Jack. We did find one where he purchased three hand-rolled cigars. Brig insisted upon posing with the Cigar Shop's wooden Indian (every cigar shop must have one by law). The Indian was holding something under his left arm, so she wanted to hold something too. I had taken the majority of my delicious pasta to go so I gave her that. Mae laughed and said the Chinese food box was the perfect accessory. We then set off towards the Green Parrot which had somehow gotten much further away from Abbondanza than I remembered it being. Once inside, I discovered that they had added a whole new section with a second bar and, of course, a T-Shirt Shop. When I used to come down here 10 or 15 years ago the place was mostly filled with locals and dogs (yes, dogs. I saw a lady buy her dog a beer once at the Green Parrot. She had brought her own bowl for the dog.) Now they had a T-Shirt shop! It was very crowded, so we stood along a small table top near the empty band stage. Jack got Brig a shot of rum and he and I a beer. The price? $17.50! Somehow I think the locals go elsewhere now. Brig sipped her shot and set it on the table surface and we observed the crowd. Then Brig decided we needed to pose for photos, so she gathered Mae and I and gave my camera to Jack. Poor Mae had been looking at the Chinese food box container and accidentally knocked Brig's shot over. So much for Brig fulfilling her lifelong dream. (OK, that is definitely exaggerating.) Some guy came over and asked us if we were working in the fort or at the carnival. I don't think I mentioned this in any detail, but the city decided to erect a carnival around the PiP site in the Navy pier. We said we were with the fort and he went on to tell us about this amazing guy who had explained knot tying to him. (That would be Captain R. Hood, my neighbor.) Jack smoked one of his cigars, reveling particularly in using the little portable torch he had also purchased at the cigar shop. I think he let the cigar go out a couple of times just so he could relight it with that thing. It was pretty crowded so we left after Jack and I finished our beer. On the way out, Rob Zerr spotted us and started razzing us about being lightweights. In fact, as Jack noted, we had much more affordable and better stock back at the fort, so why hang there? By now, the shoulder and wrist pain was getting annoying, so I elected to go back to my condo, which was on the way. We bid goodnight and agreed to have breakfast or lunch together before they left. Of course, this being Key West, that may or may not happen. You just never know at this event.

Saturday, I woke up feeling surprisingly good considering the fact that I had imbibed much too freely on Friday and had crashed my bike. Still, something was nagging at me. So I started searching through the detritus of my early morning arrival. All the clothes were neatly hung up, the variety of crap I keep in my pockets was where I usually kept it... except my wallet. Gah! I still have to fly home and check my bag, which is kind of difficult without a wallet. Not to mention the fact that all my money and fort pass had been there, so getting into the fort would be challenging. Since it was early, I quickly dressed and strode over to the crash site. No wallet. Recognizing that there was really nothing for me to do until it was late enough to call someone, I warmed coffee, updated you all for a bit and got ready. I wish I could say this was a unique experience for me, but your ship's surgeon can be quite absent-minded. (Remember this when you need an operation. "Now where did my watch go/?") This is why I am sitting here typing and relying on the spell-checker to notify me when I have completely botched the spelling. My one pair of reading glasses I brought are sitting in my non-period backpack moldering in Beowulf's tent. Out of sight, out of Mission's mind. The hour finally became decent and I called Stynky, who I knew had had to go over to the fort for an eight o'clock meeting. (Have I mentioned how glad I am that I am not the crew rep for the Mercury?) I know you're all wondering why in thee heck I would call the most notorious mug thief I know to seek out my wallet. I'm going to let you in on a secret here: Stynky is actually a pretty nice guy. A thief, yes. A troublemaker, sure. Clinically insane possibly. But he will help you out when you need it. Don't spread that around, it will ruin his rep.) I explained that the last time I had seen my wallet was in the Jackmobile. I had taken it out to retrieve my gate pass when we drove into the fort. So I asked Synky to ask Jack and the twins to see if they could find it. Then I went back to updating you guys. Two hours passed and I begin to wonder if Stynky really was a nice guy after all. So I called him and asked him: "WTF, dude?" He swore he had told them and as I was talking, Brig called me. So I hung up and Stynky and learned that my wallet was safe. Much relieved at being able to leave the island, I made arrangements to breakfast wiith Synky and Michael Bagley.(Well, maybe not that relieved... there are worse places to be stranded. Although the thought of being a street performance surgeon to make ends me is a little daunting.) Stynky and Michael arrived with my wallet and whisked me off to breakfast. I asked where we should go and Stynky immediately put forth the suggestion of going to the Rum Barrel and having corn and crab chowder. (This makes three days in a row for him for those of you who are counting. I'm not sure if I mentioned this when I first brought it up, but when I suggested the C&C Chowder at the RB for dinner two nights before Stynky was amazed at how good it was. "Don't you read the Journals?!" I asked with exasperation. "I talk about how wonderful this stuff is in every single one of them." And he said something like, "Yeah, but that's you. What if I didn't like it?" Stynky would doubt me. Now he could be the Rum Barrel Corn and Crab piaster child. (It's inexpensive (for Key West), it's filling but not overfilling and it is freaking yummy!) Over brunch (for you can't seriously call Corn and Crab Chowder breakfast, even in the most exaggerated account) we talked about re-enacting, the Fort Taylor event and the Put-in-Bay event. Put-in-Bay calls itself the Key West of the MidWest or something like that and it is a favorite event of mine. It reminds me of PiP when we could camp on the beach. (Not that you can camp on the beach in Put-in-Bay, but I have no doubt over-idealized those events.) From there we went back to the fort where I set out my surgical stuff, did a few presentations and wandered over to the gathering tent to listen to the safety discussion when things got slow. (I really wandered over there to take photos, but I also listened. This will be relevant shortly.) Then everyone filed over to one of the inside areas of the fort (I used to know what they are called, but have forgotten and am too lazy to try and find that right now. Wait for the webpage when I may do nothing find out or correct this.) Inside they were doling out powder, which was of little interest to me. They had 50, 75, 90 and 120 powder. I asked Stynky what this was and it has to do with how many grains are in the powder cartridge. So I still don't really know what it is, but I can regurgitate that bit of info like a trained monkey. We took several photos in there because there is a large cracked white wall which makes a great backdrop. Personally, I think you would look best dressed as Butch and Sundance or a Mexican bandit against that wall, but the pirate thing kind of works too. I ambled back to my surgical tent to present while keeping an eye on the folks going over to the battle. The fort wall view is panoramic, but there's nothing quite like taking photos in the thick of things. Plus I had to get some shots treating the wounded with the Clyster Syringe. (It's tradition, after all.) Eventually the pirates marched out and I quickly shed my public and joined them. (Sorry public. Not really. Come back after the battle.) On the field, Lily got on me for not attending a safety meeting. (Not having ever gone to an 8 am meeting, where they informed you which other meetings you needed to attend, I didn't know I needed to go to a safety meeting. I blame Michael, our unwilling crew leader. Luckily, Stynky, who condusts the safety meetings (Yeah, Stynky. I know, right?) was standing near me and heard all this. He came over and explained that I had indeed been at a safety meeting. lily noted that I didn't have a ribbon. So Stynky gave me one. Jack Roberts explained the battle plan which I will try to summarize for you. Two guys were chosen to definitely die early in the battle (we'll name them Cannon Fodder Thing 1 and Cannon Fodder Thing 2 since I have no clue who they were. Michael called the Green Socks and Black Boots, but that couldn't work because there were about 3000* pirates wearing black boots. (* Based on a survey by the National Bureau of Statistics.) I believe Stynky said they were from California. Wait, I'm supposed to be summarizing here, not digressing... Well, they were to have been captured by the British, would would "make sport of them." Then they would escape, the British would try to fire at them, but their magically cannon would misfire and they would rejoin us, to be killed at a later time. (They were originally just supposed to die since they didn't have firing weapons, but their roles kept getting expanded. The cannon really had to misfire because, as I learned in the safety meeting I photogr... attended, you must never be in front of a gun or cannon. Following that our cannons were to fire at the British, the rifle line was to start firing and the British were to fire back. For some reason the British had four cannons and no small arms. This is despite the fact that there must have been at least 25 of them over there. Once all the powder was fired, the guns were to be cleared (which I learned a bit about it the safety meeting event though I don't personally own a gun) and the melee was to begin with sword fights and opportunities for the surgeon to use his clyster syringe. It pretty much went like that. I have a whole bunch of photos to prove it, but without my glasses I can't really get a good look at the thumbnails. ("I think that's a guy with a rifle. Or a stick. Maybe it's a cat.") I could open them all up to sift through them for you, but that's a tedious process. So I'll save that for the web Journal. Michael was pretty fast with his gun so he ran out of powder before anyone else. Since there was now no reason for him to stand there and Scarlett was on the wall shreiking about how everyone kept missing, Michael decided to take a bullet. He went down in a heap, assuring us he was dead. Someone said I should go up and doctor him, but he was lying slightly forward of the gun line and (as I learned in the safety meeting), I should not go in front of the guns. Eventually everyone ran out of powder (except Carribean Pearl, who seemed to have an endless supply) and I could tend to Michael. He was on his back, so the Clyster Syringe was useless unless I kicked him over. So I waved my Patrick Hand Original Planter's hat over him (because it IS magic) and pronounced him healed. Several people shouted that it was a miracle when he got up. He decided he had been wounded in the leg and started painfully walking down the field using Edward O'Keefe's gun as a crutch. (Michael had borrowed this gun for the weekend.) Edward's gun is short-barreled and he had to crouch over quite a bit. It probably looked pretty good from the fort wlal, though. One thing that was added was the Crudbeard said the small arms line could advance firing. Of course, everyone had already fired most of their powder, so Caribbean Pearl was probably the only one who could have done it if she weren't having some problem with her gun. The British were also approaching in a line, looking grim. (Actually I couldn't see there faces very well as I was fooling around behind the gun line. I didn't want to be in front of the guns. Safety meeting and all. But they probably looked grim. The two sides faced each other in a line and it was just like a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western without the extreme facial close-ups. (Some of those actors needed to clean the corners of their eyes out before the extreme facial close up moment. But I digress again.) There was a discussion between Crudbeard (the pirate leader) and the Viceroy. I don't exactly know what was said, because I was still behind the line fooling around. I think each side wanted the other to surrender. Whatever it was, they decided in the only way to settle it was with sword battles between the best British and pirate sword fighters. So they did that. Some folks were killed on each side and the melee started. At last it was time to bring out the clyster syringe! I gave Michael my camera so this could be caught for posterity and your amusement. I was searching the wounded for someone I knew as I wasn't sure how someone I didn't know would take the idea of being given a fake on-field enema. However, there was this guy who was laying in just the right position and Michael cheered me on to use it on him. So I did. I can't find the photo right now (I took an awful lot of them - way more than I needed to - that was what I was fooling around with), but I think I probably looked quite dramatic. This was mostly due to the fact that as I was posing, my foot kept slipping on the coral. (Stupid period shoes!) I got two others, one of whom was Captain Black of the Valhalla's (I keep tempting fate with him.) He was actually lying on his back so I came over and announced that I had the cure for what ailed him. He laughed and said he already felt better. Another miracle cure! And that was the battle. I was supposed to once again do a mock surgery, so I got myself back into the fort as quickly as possible. Once again, no patients appeared, much to my relief, allowing me to dodge that bullet (Hah! It never gets old, does it?) again. I did several of my usual presentations and got quite a bit of interest from folks. Its been quite good for audience this year - much more active than last year, I think. I also got a chance to talk with my neighbor whom I mentioned previously: Captain R. Hood, maker of baggywinkles. (I think I got it right that time, eh?) He was been in Key West since 1979 (BC as he likes to say - Before Condos). He has a great patter and is quite the story-teller. He even offered to bring me a lignum vitae tree seedling for Sunday, which was used to make medicines during period. He has been a boat captain for quite a while, perhaps since he got here. He told me he had owned boats, but now only had a kayak because large boats so expensive to care for. I believe he sold his last boat to the charter company he currently works for. They asked him what it should be outfitted for to be a good charter boat and he gave them the complete list of what he'd love to have. "And they went for it!" So now he only has to drive his old boat, outfitted wonderfully. He does a pretty good not tying demonstration and even hauled out the sailor's knot tying bible to show me various interesting knots. A very neat guy. Things slowed down a bit as the sun started dipping and I thought about folding up the surgeon's shop. My plan was to escape over to the condo and bring you all up-to-date after that. Stynky walked by and said he was going back to the condo. "When are you leaving?" I asked, since time was of the essence. "Right now." I asked if he could wait while I put all my gear away and he agreed and then disappeared. I wanted to do this fast so I could get at least an hour in before heading for the parade (I had to be in the parade. Mae and Brig told me they would kidnap me and force me to walk with them in the parade if I didn't go along willingly, so I knew I had to be back in the fort in time for that.) If you are reading this, you already know I never got back here. But I need a break from my fuzzy screen, so I'll fill you in on the parade and evening's doings in a bit. Hopefully.

Actually, I am operating with two handicaps when it comes to the Journal The first is my wrist, which stiffened up quite nicely (along with my shoulder) as the day wore on. The second is that I left my satchel over at the fort which contains my reading glasses. Even now, as I look at what I've read, I see blurry letters (because the satchel is still at the fort tonight for reasons I will later explain. Sort of. I am relying on the spell correction function to put a nice red line under misspelled words so I can use the correct function to try and guess what the word I really wanted was. Alas, baggywinkle is a misspelling as is baggywrinkle according to the Firefox spell-checker. So the red line is bloody useless in this case. But to continue yesterday.... . I completely missed the auctioning of the clyster syringe, so I don't really know what it fetched. Chrispy claims it was about $100, which I do not trust because he was at least three sheets to the wind during the event. (And I should know - we recognize our own.) He was holding forth with the auction and I wish I could tell you more about that, but I had already decided to initiate a round of Stynky's Hat Strange Swap Game by trading my Patrick Hand Original for his Busby Berkley Original. Then I traded that with Michael Bagley, who was sitting across from me. Note that Chrispy was still auctioning things (of which I have several photos) but I don't recall a one of them because I was focusing on the Hat Swapping. I do it differently than Stynky, even when I am soused. He just grabs someone's hat and gives them his. I actually tried to keep track of who had whose hat since there were several people there I didn't know. I know I traded hats with several folks, almost none of which I remember 24 hours later. Spike stands out in my mind because he really didn't want to give his up. (Its just a black tricorn.) Finally I explained the game and he let me wear it for a picture. Then he took it back. (I'll bet the Patrick Hand Original is worth twice what a black tricorn would be on eBay.) I also was angling for Captain Charles Black's hat, but I wasn't sure he'd understand the game, so I first dealt with an intermediary: Handsome Devlin. I explained the concept of the hat swap game to Devlin and how I didn't want to be pounded into past for playing around. He seemed unsure, but he suggested I try it and see what happened. I guess I was drunk enough to take that suggestion and Captain Black proved to be all for it. (His hat has cool skull pins in it as I recall and I quite liked it. If I didn't do period, I would totally have a hat like that.) After the auction ended, I did my best to restore everyone's hats.Of course Stynky had been playing his own version of the game and he had no hat at that point and no idea where his hat had wound up. (How do you lose a hat in a hat swap game? I mean to say... So as not to keep you in suspense over the missing chapeau, l will tell you that he found it today. The girl who I believe was with Valhalla's Pirates had it. She said she could give it back,but Stynky said he had ways of exacting revenge and let her hang on to it. (He told me that if she had it, he didn't have to worry about it.) Chrispy came up and introduced me to the Skeleton Pirate of Fort Myer's Beach. I fanned his Facebook page about six months ago when I learned there was such a person as the Skeleton Pirate of Ft. Myer's beach. He makes his living doing street performance dressed as a skeleton Pirate. How cool is that? He is quite a high energy guy, very much like Chrispy. In fact, Chrispy told me they were often confused with each other. (I can''t quite see that myself.) The also do routines together including one they showed me that cannot be repeated as this is a family Journal. Well, sort of. He used to work for a PBS television station doing program coordination or something like that. One day he decided to join some street performers playing music and found he could make a little extra cash that way. He is also an artist, so he showed his fellow performers photos of some of his stuff and talking about re-enacting and other things he did. When they saw a photo of a large heavy plastic skull that he owned, they suggested he turn it into a mask and perform as a skeleton pirate. So he cut the plastic skull apart, separating the jaw from the skull and attached it to a mask of some kind. He padded the inside of the skull and used it for a mask. Then he went to perform. The way he does it is by standing very still so that people think he is a statue. The approach him and debate whether he's a statue or not (which is actually a classic haunted house ploy.) At the opportune moment he jumps at them. Because the jaw is separate from the top of the skull, he can open it and do all sorts of crazy things with it. This scares most folks pretty good. (You can see videos of this on his Facebook fan page via the previous link.) Then many of them want to pose with him, which is how he collects money for his performance. He said he made $40 or $50 the first night he did it and was hooked. He now does this full time. Seriously, how cool is that? The twins appeared at some point during the night wearing belly dancing gear. They had planned to do some dancing after the auction ended, but things wound down two quickly for their taste and the music became undanceable according to them. (As the third twin, you would think I would also be a belly dancer, but you should know better by now.) I did ask them why the belly danced. Brig started doing it by enrolling in a community college class that she could take to fulfill a PE credit. Mae joined her because she was still in Florida at that point. ( I was off on a secret mission to try and liberate a group of Danish veterinarians who were being held in Guam, so I couldn't join my fellow twins, despite the fact that Brig told me that several guys did it and were very good. Nevertheless, Mae tied her belt with all the shiny bangle thing on it around my wast, which I wore with drunken pride for the rest of the evening. You could hear me coming a mile away with those things jangling. The Mercury crew (Michael, Beowulf and I) were tasked with gate duty at 11pm. By this time, I had had quite a bit of scotch and probably several other things. Still, an obligation is an obligation, so Michael and I went over to fulfill our duty. We talked quite a bit about this and that while we were there, although none of it makes for good copy. Mostly because I don't remember much of it. (And Michael had spent quite a bit of time imbibing himself, so I am sure it was just scintillating conversation.) Stynky showed up at some point and we had a nice time of it as I recall. The two hours passed quickly. Not to mention hazily. When our relief showed up, I staggered back to retrieve my rental bike, which I had ridden over this morning. Stynky seemed concerned about my state (with pretty good reason) and suggested I ride back with him. I didn't want to leave the bike, however, so when he went off to use the restroom, I unlocked my bike and climbed on. The condo wasn't all that far away and I wanted my bike. I made quite the effort to go fast enough to stay ahead of Stynky because I had decided for some reason that I wanted to beat him. (Which was absurd. He was in a car.) I managed to make it out of the fort and then decided that I would peddle through the dark area in front of the fort so when he came out in his car he wouldn't see me. Now I want it on the record that I have done this several times in years past. However, between last December and this, they put in some very large logs and reflective sticks to keep people from going in the large open area near the fort entrance. Being dark and all, I smacked full speed into a log about 12"in diameter and went ass over teakettle across the bike's handlebars. Everything in my basket spilled over the log with me. I hastily grabbed some of it and climbed bakc on the bike. Many my shoulder and wrist hurt... I peddled back to the condos where Stynky caught up to me. I explained what had happened and he did the whole "I told you so" routine. So I walked back to the condo and met him in the parking lot. At this point I realized that I had only picked up some of the items that had been in my basket. Stynky generously drove me over to the crash site where I retrieved the rest of my items. And that is how I hurt my wrist. I was going to sit her and write some of this down last night, but my wrist was bothering me enough that I decided against it. This is also why I think I'll sign off for the evening. I came back early because my wrist and shoulder were bothering me so much. I'll tell you about today tomorrow morning if my wrist hasn't completely frozen up. I would like to note for future reference that when we walked to Cafe Sole, Brig announced that it was her fondest wish to stop into the Green Parrot (which we passed coming and going) for a drink. Because the dinner took so long at Cafe Sole, we voted that down last night to allow us to get to the fort for the auction. Why I am explaining this will become relevant when I explain what happened today. With any luck.

Michael Bagley showed up late in the afternoon whereupon Beowulf and I unanimously elected him to be our crew representative. He tried hard to avoid this as the crew rep has to attend 8am meetings, but we were adamant. I had planned to take Jack, Brig, Michael and Mae to my favorite restaurant on earth - Cafe Sole - and now that Michael was here was started plotting that. Everyone was hungry so promptly at 5pm, we buttoned up our gear and left in Jack's van, which he explained was "the Piratemobile." Personally, I think that is too lame, so I called it the Jackmobile. Whatever it is, it is very comfortable to ride in, especially after you've been standing on you feet all day on the thinly covered coral of the fort grounds. We parked it at my condo and went in so they could plug all their electronic devices in. I had suggested we walk from there as it was only 8 blocks. About four blocks in, Jack started complaining about how far the walk was (My FEEEET!) and so I ragged him mercilessly about that. In Jack's defense, period shoes are only so comfortable and my feet were starting to feel the walk as well. Once we arrived, the twins immediately both went into the small bathroom leaving us to arrange to seating. Although I am the third twin, I was not invited for some reason. They went in there several times during the evening together leaving me to wonder just what it is women do together in the bathroom. Actually, when we were leaving, Brig went by herself, which caused Mae to proclaim, "She went by herself." with some concern. Anyhow, we finally all got seated, to the bemusement of our waiter. We put Michael in charge of ordering the wine, which he does with great authority. He ordered something Italian and red, explaining to us that for this particular wine, they left the grapes on the vine until they started to dry up a little and then picked them for wine production. (I am going to guess he reads wine bottle labels like Red Jessi. Or maybe he studies wines when he's traveling for business. Perhaps he's just an Oenaphile. If that's the case, I think I saw a treatment for that in one of he period surgical manuals and I can help him out. But I digress... it was a very heavy, interesting red wine and we all agreed to have a second bottle. Appetizers and dinners were ordered and warm bread with some mysterious tan butter-like thing appeared. It had lots of herbs in it and was a very good complement to the bread. We debated it's makeup until the twins announced that it must be a sort of hummus. (Fascinating stuff, isn't this?) I had lobster bisque as my appetizer and it was yummy. I shared some with Brig, but everyone else was too busy with their appetizers to try mine. (Mae mournfully admitted that she is allergic to seafood, something that has mad her quite sad over the years as she was born and raised Florida.) Jack got escargot which he let me try and it was delicious. Dinner arrived and everyone settled into that. It was roundly agreed that the food was outstanding, the setting lovely and the whole thing was just wonderful. Mae ordered a steak well-done, which the waiter said would make the cook cry. Yet she was quite impressed with how tender it was. So, for those of you who read these and think that the old Ship's Surgeon may talk a good story about food but probably can't be trusted in such matters (Stynky), I have five more votes in favor of Cafe Sole. While we were eating, the owner started sprinkling some kind of dust on the floor which was made up of sandalwood, cinnamon and something else. Someone asked him why he was doing that and he explained that it kept the no see-ums away. (It smelled splendid.) Later, we had a chance to chat with the owner. When introduced to the twins, he explained that he was an "Irish Twin" with his sister who was 15 months younger than he. (No, I don't know what an Irish twin is either.) They talked about the difficulties of moving away from you twin and so forth. I was waiting for them to get into the reason that they go to the bathroom together, but it never came up for some reason. We then walked the 8 blocks back to my condo, and no one complained at all this time. (The walk was most welcome after such a filling and delicious meal.) On the way we passed the house with a million Christmas lights that I photographed last year. It has blue light jumping dolphins and a scatter of lights that look like crystal spread all over the porch this year. (It must make it hard to get in the front door with ruining the light string though. Kind of like those movies where the hero has to twist their body around to avoid the lasers guarding the McGuffin. Well, maybe not that bad.) I photographed it the same way I did last year, so we'll have to see if it came out. I should note here that I left my hat back at the restaurant. I'm not sure why I should note this here, but it is so noted. We drove back and got it and then returned to the fort. Although Cafe Sole would be a wonderful epitaph for the Patrick Hand Original Planter's Hat, I would be lost without it. People probably wouldn't let me attend events. Stynky would have nothing to try and steal. (OK, that's taking this too far; Stynky will always find something to steal.) Back in the fort, the twins went off for the bathroom again. The auction had started, so we left them there and wandered in to the fort. Jack told me he had brought a bottle of Laphroig scotch with him and invited me to partake. You may recall my mentioning this scotch in an earlier Columbus Santa Maria Surgeon's Journal this year if you keep up with them. Jack is a huge scotch fan. He likes them really peaty like the Laphroig. Being a fan of single malt scotches, I partook. Drinky peaty scotch is like drinking really strong coffee. It grows on you. Of course, if you don't wash often, so does mold. The auction was well underway when we arrived, so we sat down and enjoyed the scotch and Cannibal Chrispy's antics. I had missed the auctioning of my contribution (a clyster syringe - a real one) which was kind of a bummer. I will have to talk with Jill-Handed Red and see if she bid on it as I asked her to do on the FTPI Facebook page. (She said her son Youngblood was "looking to add to his arsenal" which I believe is a reference to one of the previous PiP Journals. THAT is an item Youngblood really needs for his arsenal!) Well, Synky and Michael on there way here to collect me for breakfast, so you'll have to wait for the finale to yesterday.