Thursday, April 19, 2007

22 years ago today

One score and 24 months ago today, I pulled into a small town along the banks of the Willamette River, I was looking for a cold beer and a cheap taco. Sitting in the small town of Independence, was a watering hole called, Cooper's Landing. Cooper's was infamous to the local college, economically challenged kids, for its dimer nights and 25 sent tacos.

I had spent the night before destroying many brain cells with several other Pirate types, The Reverend Doctor Abigambi, Pope John Paul, Brian Paul Lezbee and Coondog. We had killed more brain cells then I would ever admit to in front of my parents or a judge. That next morning I was feeling like crap and smelling much worse. My friend Coondog came by in the early evening while I was still convalescing and reminded me that I had promised that I was going to go to Cooper's that evening with the motley crew of brain cell killers because Little Big Band was playing and the tacos had to be eaten.

With every fiber in my body I put my peg leg on, twisted on the hook and found the eye patch. Donned my swashbuckling uniform of feathery hat, fluffy shirt and sabre strap and headed out. We met the usual suspects drinking cheap domestic swill and slopping through corned-shelled tacos laced with bad-ass taco sauce that was concocted at the local mechanics shop owned by Bob the Mek-i-nik, across the street from Cooper's. Thus the 25 cents.

After several glasses of Rainier and Coondog eating half my pack of Marlboro Lights in came the woman I would eventually surrender all my freedoms to for the next 20 some years. Younger then me, a hell of a lot cuter followed by her fine little seat in her jeans. The girl was hazel-eyed, had short brown hair, and standing a smidget over 5 feet tall she stood with a not as cute girlfriend as they looked for a place to sit. I noticed that they eventually found a table way in the back and far from the excitement of the drunk and dancing college lushes.

I slapped back another half glass of confidence and approached the two ladies in the back. I introduced myself as the brave, courageous, slightly drunk and frank Pirate. I asked the two ladies if they'd like to sit at the table my friends and I had liberated. They agreed to be entertained by the small band of losers I called friends. The cute one couldn't get her eyes off my hat and commented about my tight leotards or the other way around.

Not long after the two sat among my friends I was able to convince the charming and lovely hazel-eyed girl to drink several beers from my pitcher. From here we took the dance floor. With my swashbuckling fancy foot work, several more beers and the promise of passion beyond her wildest imagination this little sweety and I slipped off to my cabin.

And the rest is history. Several kids, many cats and dogs that have came and went and the only constant is the sanity of the little lady who fell in love with a Pirate.

Twenty-two years and counting. She must be crazy.