Think Renaissance Faire at Sea, in a campground

I realized last year that there’s some sort of pirate trend going on in pop culture. I thought it started when I noticed it. But, no, some friends visiting from the much more cutting edge Bay Area pointed out that the pirate thing had already been around for at least a year and was already on its way out down in California. Color me increasingly out of touch with all things hip and trendy.

Proving that I’m not the only one that hasn’t gotten the memo that pirate fun is SO last year, Rob and I and some friends attended an official Pirate Gathering on Saturday. Why? A coworker was going to be there, plus it sounded like something the accompanying 4- and 5-year-olds might enjoy. Verdict: The tire swing was the hit of the afternoon, followed closely by the peacocks. And for future reference, the 5-year-old officially hates cannons.

It wasn’t entirely clear what the stated point of the gathering was. Objectively, it was about 500 people camping out together in an Oregon canyon for the holiday weekend. Subjectively, it seemed an excuse for a number of extraordinarily pale and rather fleshy people to put on pirate costumes and walk around showing their spirit and fleshiness. Cleavage and love-handles abounded. There were a number of somewhat authentic looking swashbucklers wearing what appeared to be the timeless footwear of choice: Teva hiking sandals. One man was “hanging out” in his campsite, wearing only blue paint and a codpiece. Inexplicably, those of us wearing jeans, t-shirts, and Sketchers were good-naturedly jeered as being “naked.”

We wandered down “Merchant Row” and somehow resisted getting henna tattoos, swords, velvet bustiers, or a Tarot card reading. We did fall victim, however, to the snow cone booth. “Aye matey, I’ll have a bubblegum one and a lime one, please.”

As we meandered through the campsites, noting tents that looked like ships and catching a glimpse of a Dungeons & Dragons game in full swing, we paused at one tent where there was a blanket displaying a mishmash of decidedly un-piratey items. As Rob looked at the PartyLite wall candle holder, the empty decorative bottle for olive oil, and some ceramic pots, a pirate maiden of about 10 approached him. “Oh, I see you have noticed our items. They are available for trading.” She obviously had been practicing her pitch all morning and sounded very professional, if not rehearsed. Having already consumed our snow cones, we had nothing to barter with so we moved on.

We decided to call it a day when we realized the 5-year-old was covering her ears at every distant chorus of shouting. An earlier chorus had warned of three cannons being fired, by far the highlight of the outing for Rob. Me, I think my favorite part was listening to a 30-something wielding a duct-tape-covered water worm explain how he used to be a much better jouster when he did it daily 8 or 9 years ago. Arrrgh.