'Twas the night the pirates invaded the Spiegeltent; Aye, there was Mundy and Lisa Hannigan, the Walls and Cathy Davey...a crowd of such thievin' varmints you never did see--skuttle me skippers but they took other folk's songs and played them as their own...scallywags. The real show wasn't what was on the stage but with the landlubbers who had stepped aboard the good ship Spiegeltent and embraced Pirate culture for the night...savvy? Shiver me timbers but the place was awash with Long John Black Beards, Dirty Davey Jones, Peg Leg Petes and more eye make-up then was strictly necessary (Johnny Depp has a lot to answer for).
The crew also turned buccaneer for the night; dressing in appropriate attire, swashbuckling across the deck and saying 'arrrrghhh!' quite a bit. Needless to say twas more fun than a festival at Fiddlers' Green. Wednesday Sept 19th be 'Talk Like a Pirate Day'--keelhaul your lily-livered workmates if they don't take part.
The real story of that fateful night took place after the pirates had all gone home, the decks had been swabbed, we'd drunk all the rum and circa 4am the taxis took us home. A little shaky on me timbers I made my way to the front door of younger brother's gaff (temporary residence), inserted the key and pushed. Hhhmm door a little stiff, another, harder push...still unresponsive. Actions repeated with greater force, door not budging. Baffling--could someone have bolted door from the inside?
Ring Brother. Also unresponsive. Huh--small dilemma on my hands. Send frantic text messages to brother in CAPITAL letters--might get more of a reaction.
Nothing.
Ring brother again. Still no answer.
Bastard.
Shit. Locked out at 4am, cold, need to pee, dressed like a pirate.
Right--- forget being considerate of brother's housemate--ring doorbell.
Nothing.
Ring doorbell several more times at length.
No lights, zero response.
Double shit. Housemate's at boyfriend's, brother obviously out on the lock somewhere.
Ring brother again, leave distressed voice mail.
Realisation of total lock out hits, just as a gentle mist rolling in off the Irish sea begins to tickle my skin.
Shit, shit, shit. Cold, hungry, tired and now getting wet. Can't even get into my car because the keys are inside the house...
...or can I?
Remember faulty back window broken by mate on road trip to Carlingford (Thanks Bob) Slide window down and open door, crawl into back seat--salvation at last! Car contains a pillow and mountain of cardigans due to lazy unpacking. Carefully arranged they stave off the worst of the cold...suddenly I'm looking more hobo than pirate. Rain starts to bucket down outside; this is ok, things could be worse.
Ring brother again--answer your goddamn phone!
5am rolls around, no sign of brother returning--what if he doesn't return? What if he's passed out on a friend's couch and spends the next day there? What if his housemate stays at her boyfriends'? I'll have to go to work the next day dressed as a pirate! Incapable of sleep due to anxiety, cold and mounting pressure in bladder. Curse that rum.
Contemplate peeing into an empty bottle in car. Thankfully realise co-ordination is not the best and don't attempt it. Scrabble way back out of cardigan mountain once rains stops and wind up peeing behind a big bush in the garden. And I thought being locked out was rock bottom.
Clamber back into the car, set alarm for 8am and go to sleep praying no members of public will see me but that brother or housemate will when/if they return.
Several restless hours later I emerge from the hobo-mobile and re-try the door bell. Housemate answers (Halleluja!), gives me a funny look, puts on her coat and leaves for work. She was here all along!
Tramp upstairs and find hungover brother in bed. HE was here all along! Double bastard!
Witness self in mirror; eye-liner, curly moustache and goatee still in place. Weirdest walk-of-shame ever.
Realise that I don't want to be a pirate anymore--want four walls, comfy bed with a duvet and a hot cup of tea. I am a lily-livered, landlubber lass and that's that. Now I know why it's 'talk like a pirate day' and not 'live like a pirate day'. Can't believe I have to go to work in 6 hours time.
Oh but what a cup of tea that was...blow me down but twould be a scurvy dog would say otherwise.
Dammit can't stop now. At least I'm ready for Wednesday--are you?
3 comments:
Yaar ye be one foolish sea-hobo Seaman Bones....but at least you're a funny one :)
Yeaaar, that story be a tickling me humour bones me lass. Could yer not wrap yerself in yer jolly roger flag and curl up in yer treasure chest?
(I never realised a piratey sentence could sound so dodgy!)
Aye the lush landlubbers robbed me gold an' me flag.
Considering the circumstances I thought my solution was quite ingenious actually.
I am checking if I have my keys every five minutes now though :O
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