Pirates

I don’t understand the pirate craze of the last few years. Somehow, Disney and Jerry Bruckheimer make a movie based on a ride at an amusement park, and the world eats it up. Why do we need to romanticize bad people from the past? Whether it is cowboys who slaughtered the natives, gangsters who preyed on human’s natural predilection for vice, or pirates responsible for slaughtering and raping people for their own financial gain, Hollywood has been turning the bad guys into heroes for generations.

Naturally, my girlfriend Lupe thinks differently. She adores pirates. Lupe really wanted to attend “Dress Like a Pirate Night” at a bar we frequent. I would rather sit through a Meredith Baxter Birney Lifetime made-for-TV movie marathon than go to pirate night at the bar, but I love my girlfriend, so I agreed to go with Lupe under the condition that I got to choose my own costume.

When we got to the Bar on “Dress Like a Pirate Night,” I got a lot of stares, giggles, and “ahoy maties. Your costume be awesome.” When the bar gave out the award for best costume, I walked away with the top prize and $100, which is pretty impressive considering I was just wearing stuff from my dresser.

What was the costume that got all of the acclaim? It was actually simple. All I did was wear shorts and a t-shirt. On the shirt, I stenciled “Somalia.” I also carried a large black squirt gun that looks a lot like an assault rifle. It probably helps as well that I am skinny and dark-skinned.

One hundred dollars can buy a lot of rum.