The Story of Pirate Mike.

          Normally I would change the name of the person in the story to avoid any problems down the line but in this case I'm quite certain that "Mike" was never his real name to begin with. I've told this story so many times that "The Story of Pirate Mike" has now taken root in Portland house party folklore and the details have already come back to me skewed and blown out of proportion. So here it is, The Story of Pirate Mike; the second time in my life I had to reckon with a real pirate (The first is the story of Pirate…. we'll say "Jones" and it's one where I came a lot closer to death but I'll save that for another blog entry).
          Our story begins at about nine PM on a street in Portland just outside of a production studio I shared with a few other guys. I had recently been given the keys and the responsibility of locking it up at night if I were the last to leave. My good friend Jesse was visiting from Seattle and we were having a couple beers at my office. We stepped out for one last cigarette and began a conversation about how delightfully unique Portland was. I explained how it wasn't uncommon to see a group of ninjas singing show tunes in perfect harmonies, pushing each other in shopping carts fly past you while you walk to the grocery store. Portland is a town where the not-normal is normal. fittingly, the proof appeared right before our eyes as the conversation came to a close when a man dressed as a pirate limped around the corner and began coming our way. As he got closer I could see that this was no ordinary pirate costume, this man was high-budget-movie caliber pirate. Everything from the gold emblem clipped to his three point hat to his cufflinks was authentic pirate garb. I should mention also that he appeared to be about 35 years old, a relatively young swashbuckler.
          "Ahoy" he said which didn't surprise us. We both said "hi" back just enthusiastic enough to indicate that we were willing to talk to him. I could smell his breath by this point and he was definitely drunk, but he was coherent enough to hold a conversation. So that, plus our curiosity to what pirate themed event he had just come from prompted a conversation. Jesse was probing him with very direct questions as he often does and we discovered quickly that there was no pirate themed anything around town that caused him to dress the way he did rather he was simply "Pirate Mike". He explained without hesitation that he has a boring job where he has to wear boring clothes and do boring things all day. So in the evenings he dresses like a pirate to entertain himself and others wherever he gets drunk or something like that, it wasn't completely clear.
          "Right now, I'm working on my pirate limp" he said which accounted for the way he walked up to us. He then produced a six pack of beer from a sack he was carrying and asked if we wanted to share it with him. He was very friendly at this point and intriguing to say the least so we agreed. That was certainly my first mistake. I invited him in. That was most definitely my second one. Over the next hour Jesse, Pirate Mike, and I ended up having a host of belly laughs as we exchanged funny videos we knew about on Youtube. Pirate Mike introduced me to "The Gathering of the Juggalos" videos which to this day I am quite fond of. Jesse had already stayed later than he had planned and it was time for him to leave for real so we all went outside for one more cigarette, shook hands, and off he went. Pirate Mike said he had to go as well and asked asked where the "pisser" was on his way out. Even though Pirate Mike had gained my trust for the most part, I was still nervous about sending him through the office among the expensive gear. I sent him to the main entrance of the building so he could bypass the office and go right to the bathroom which was shared by multiple offices instead.
          He Limped around the corner to where that door was and returned a second later to yell to me that the door was locked. Of course! After nine PM the janitor locks that door so I told him the four digit code to open it. I went back inside and moments later heard a knock on the door. It was Pirate Mike of course and he asked if he could wait inside with me while he waited for his cab to show up. I didn't see a problem with it. I had sized him up earlier and decided if it came down to it, I could probably take him alone if I had to. I must emphasize that Mike was officially my buddy at this point in the night, he was a fun, fascinating man. I truly liked the guy.
          "Well my cab should be here any minute, I'm going to go wait for it out on the street now, I gotta use the pisser one more time. Would it be alright if I just left out that door I came in earlier?" he asked.
          "Sure" I replied and escorted him through the office and into the public hallway. We said our pirate goodbyes with an "Arg!" and off he went. I sat down and thought about what had just happened and it occurred to me that his exit plan was a tad too complicated but I couldn't figure out what could possibly go wrong. I never took my eye off him while he was in the office. Then it hit me. The "public" hallway at this building doubled as an art gallery for local artists. There were large paintings hung on the wall that would rotate every few months. Although the works were slightly below mediocre at best, the typical price tag was about $500 a piece. I dashed out into the hallway and sure enough, a painting that was about 4 feet by 5 feet large was gone. My heart went up in my throat. Pirate Mike ripped off the painting and here I was on the security camera starring at the blank space at midnight five minutes after he pulled it off the wall. I'm implicated for sure. I'm going to loose this office, My life is ruined. Ok, Ok, he was on foot- but he caught a cab! - but the painting was too big to fit in a cab - there never was a cab, it was all a decoy- he was walking east when we met him- that must be the direction to where he lives - it's only been five minutes he couldn't have gotten far, not with a giant painting at least. I ran east. Sure as Davey Jones' Locker, five blocks away I came across a sea faring thief skipping down the street without a limp holding a man sized painting of a woman breast feeding.
          "Pirate Mike, stop!" I shouted. He turned around and when he saw me he hung his head.
          I caught up to him and carefully pitched my case, "Hey Mike, I'm not going to call the cops, let's just put that painting back and forget about all this." He hesitated and replied,
          "look man, I made sure not to rip you off. I like you, but I'm a pirate ya know? I gotta pirate wherever I go. It's my way. The painting isn't yours how could you get in trouble for it?" he drunkenly questioned.
          I told him about the security cameras and how I'm going to be linked to it no matter what. He saw my point of view and reluctantly walked back with me and hung the painting back on the wall. He apologized for his inebriated logic and eventually told me he was glad that I caught him. In fact our conversation went so well that we ended up going to a bar and exchanged several stories of stupid shit we had each done while drunk. Now we really had bonded, I think he even teared up a little at one point.
          Two AM rolled around, the bar closed, we said our final goodbyes, and I started walking back to the office to sober up before my drive home. I should mention that this was a month or two before I lived in the van, I had an old Buick and an apartment up the street. When I got back to the office I sat down, watched a few more Youtube vids and reflected on the crazy night. It occurred to me that when I saw Mike walking home I had looked way down the street and noticed he made a left turn a block earlier than where I had caught up to him the first time. I thought for a second to myself; there's no way he would come back here because he didn't know that I was going back to the office. I would have seen or heard him or….Oh shit. The code. Way earlier in the night I had told him that damn door code. At this point I was adding up all the mistakes I had made throughout the night and had the feeling that I probably deserved everything that was happening. I dashed into the hallway. As I feared, the painting was gone again. My heart did the jumpy thing again but this time it burned a little hotter when I swallowed. Now I was really mad. I didn't like Pirate Mike at all anymore. I began to really panic this time, knowing there's no way he was going to let himself get caught twice. he surely went a different direction with a better plan, and even more time had passed this round. He had won.
          But wait! we had exchanged numbers back when we were friends earlier in the night. Could he have been clever enough to give me a fake number? Why would he even answer if it was his actual number? With no other plans on deck, I dialed it and waited. To my great surprise he answered. But of course he did! Just like the stupid costume, this is all part of the fun for him. I can't remember everything we talked about but the conversation lasted about a half an hour, the whole while he denied having the painting. I tried everything. I tried pleading, I tried threatening him, I tried offering him money, all I knew was that as long as I had him on the line I had a chance. Once he hangs up, that would be the final nail in the coffin. I knew and he knew that I wasn't going to call the cops. If I had, then everyone at the office would have found out all the mistakes I had made regardless if they caught him or not, and things would have been bad for me. I needed that painting back. It also helped that he was significantly drunk by now and maybe he would slip up and reveal something indicating his location. After a half an hour we began yelling at each other and it happened. He said something like,
          "Look man! I'm sorry your fuckin painting is gone but I don't have it! I'm just standin' outside a 7-11 in the cold waiting for my fuckin cab to show up so I can go home and pass out!" I cussed him out one last time and hung up. I thought about the three 7-11s that were within two miles from my office. I hopped in my car and drove to the closest one. I was putting it all together. The reason he's still waiting for a cab 45 minutes after he left was because he had to order one of those van cabs special so he could fit that damn painting of the breast feeding woman in there. I sped up the street in my old Buick and around the corner to the 7-11 parking lot and Aaaaaaaah! there he was sliding the painting into a van cab at that very second! I screeched my tires to a stop pinning the cab into the lot, almost hitting him and jumped out of the car. As soon as he saw me, he let go of the painting and ran away as fast as his pirate boots could carry him. The cab driver started yelling.
          "No it's ok!", I yelled back at the cab driver, "I need that painting delivered back to my office. That pirate just stole it from me and I just caught him". Two drunk guys standing about twenty feet away who saw the whole thing just started laughing hard. The bewildered cab driver calmed down after I gave him some money and agreed to follow me back to my office where I hung the painting back on the wall. On my way home I got a call from Pirate Mike. In a calm voice he said,
          "Touche. It's not often I'm out pirated. You did a fine job lad. I left my hat in your office, I guess I'm not getting that back" he probed.
          "You are correct sir" I replied, "Now that I have the painting back, I have to admit it was quite the memorable night, I will say this; I do not wish to be friends with you Pirate Mike but if I see you around town you don't need to worry about me trying to kick your ass or anything, but that's only because I got the painting back. Your lucky". He told me that that was very noble of me and hung up. That was the last I ever saw or heard of Pirate Mike. The painting was undamaged and no one ever found out. I later told this story at a monthly open mic at someone's house and gave the hat to the host who still wears it while introducing the next performer every month.