By Sarah Pye
Living Editor
That’s it. I just can’t keep quiet any longer.
In the wake of Talk Like a Pirate Day (which, for those of you who have been vacationing in Uzbekistan and are therefore unaware, was celebrated on Sept. 19), I feel compelled to make an announcement likely to shock the nation.
Yes folks, that’s correct. I discovered pirates.
Now, for those obnoxious readers among you who really want to get technical, I suppose it would not be exactly accurate to say that I discovered them, per se. But I maintain that I am in fact responsible for discovering that pirates are cool.
Who begged her parents to take her on Pirates of the Caribbean upwards of 27 times per visit to Disneyland? Me.
Who owns and has in fact forced numerous once-close friends to play “Yo, Ho, Ho! An Exciting Pirate Memory Game”? Me.
Who has been known to unashamedly interject words like “avast” and “swashbuckle” into her vocabulary (long before those clowns went and made a national day of it)? You guessed it. Me again.
So what I am saying here is that I often frighten people. But more than that, I claim responsibility for the pirate mania that is currently sweeping the nation.
Once upon a time, pirates were only for seafaring criminals and Jimmy Buffett fans. Then all of a sudden Johnny Depp decides to braid his chin hair and WHAM! The nation is sent into veritable pirate frenzy.
(And Johnny, if you’re reading this – and surely you are – I would watch my step if I were you, man. With the recent and tragic demises of Ritter and Cash, it’s really not a good time to be named John. I’m just saying, don’t jump out of any airplanes or anything. Stossel and Bon Jovi, this applies to you, too.)
In fact, this is not the first time I or members of my immediate family have been personally responsible for a national trend. Several years ago, I purchased from the Cracker Barrel (marvelous institution; please come to California) a small plush cat with a tag in the shape of a heart attached to its ear.
One year later, Beanie Babies were retailing for upwards of $6 million on eBay, and men is dark suits were making deals in back alleys to get their hands on collectors pieces such as “Larry the Little Blue Dinosaur.”
Also, my father claims personal responsibility for bringing the nationwide dance craze of the mid-1990s, The Macarena, to this country. He maintains that he was dancing in circles and shouting “Ay!” in Cabo San Lucas for years before it became the beloved pastime of junior high school dances everywhere.
And on a side note to my side note: Why didn’t the junior high boys ever wise up to the fact that the dances were where all the action was? You’d have, like, 155 girls all lined up along one side of the gym, across from approximately three guys, all of whom were in fact dragged there by their girlfriends, and all of whom looked positively miserable.
Yet a mere 15 or so years later, the majority of those guys who scoffed at dancing back in junior high are shelling out enormous amounts of cash on Saturday nights, in an attempt to successfully pick up women in dance clubs. Move in early, men! Don’t wait until you’re forced to purchase fruity girl drinks at $7.95 a pop! Once again, here we have proof that females are undoubtedly the more intelligent of the genders.
But getting back to my original point (which, if you recall, is the fact that I discovered the true cool potential of pirates), I think America owes me a little bit of credit, here. Perhaps in the form of a large statue, similar to the Lincoln Memorial.
Or better yet, just introduce me to Johnny Depp. Provided he’s still alive.
September 25, 2003