Ian the Pirate: Part 1

It was a Thursday afternoon, a week before school let out. In other words, I should have seen it coming.

I was sitting on a bench in the Sebastopol town square (if you want to know more about the kind of shit that goes down in the town square, check out "Only in Sebastopol" ), reading a novel I had recently purchased at a library book sale, for the sole purpose of it having a nice cover. The novel wasn't really living up to its cover, so I lifted my eyes away from the page and examined my surroundings.

It's a sunny day in Sebtown, and the town square is adorned with the usual crowd: the gay couple with their small, obnoxious puppy, the Waldorf moms, sipping kombucha as their offspring strip down to their birthday suits and plunge into the fountain, and on the other side of the square, there's the ever-present tribe of teenage stoners, homeless people, and twenty-something vagabonds. Ever since the warm weather has kicked in, young wayfarers from all over California, the U.S., the WORLD--for that matter--have been flocking to Sebastopol. Hey, if I were homeless and looking for a good place to spend my summer, I'd probably head to Sebtown, too. Free dope, free kombucha, free food from accommodating individuals such as yours truly--what more could a wandering adolescent want? Not to mention the fact that the cops in Sebastopol are so oblivious to (or dare I say--accepting of?) the overwhelming presence of ganja in town that, on one particular occasion, they issued a ticket to several hippies for drawing with chalk in the gazebo, overlooking the fact that the subtle yet potent smell of weed surrounding the gazebo probably had something to do with the hippies' sudden urge to "express themselves".

A new batch of vagabonds have arrived, around 7-8 individuals between the ages of 18 and 25. Among them is a couple, a guy and a girl, who are lounging on a shady patch of grass with their fat, ginger cat, enjoying the sunshine. They look so peaceful, content, almost wistful, I can't help but sit there and gaze at them fondly. And then, out of nowhere, Pirate, headed straight for me. I am not kidding. Tall, wild-haired, maroon-skinny-jeans-clad gentleman wearing a purple pirate hat.

"What are you reading?" he asks.
"Oh, it's not that great...I only bought it because of the cover."
"That is kind of an amazing cover. May I sit?"

And before I know it, I am sitting on a bench in the town square, listening to a young, wandering Pirate tell me his life story, more or less.

3 months ago, at the age of eighteen, Ian left his hometown of Grand Rapids, MI (also the hometown of yours truly--coincidence? I think not!) to travel the U.S.A, Jack Kerouac-style. He arrived in Sebastopol three weeks ago, after a short-lived visit to Arcata. "I liked Arcata, but I did something really stupid and kinda messed it up." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, I kinda stole some essential oils from a health food co-op. I kinda felt bad about it, but not really, cuz it totally wasn't a legit co-op. They didn't even have raw almond butter."

At this point in the conversation, Ian the Pirate begins to rummage around in his fanny pack. "Here," he says, handing me a peach-colored, smooth stone, in a silver-colored setting. "I feel like you should have this. Like, a higher power is telling me to give it to you." Now how is one expected to answer to that? I manage an awkward, "Oh, wow, that's so nice of you...I wish I had something to give you...do you want, like, a bagel or something?" "Nahhh, that's not why I gave it to you." An awkward silence follows, which Ian chooses to break by asking me if I like rodents. "Sure...?" What, is he going to produce a rat out of that majestic hat of his? Um, yes, apparently he is. "This is Murray," he says, handing me a fat, dark-haired rat. If not for the fact that I spent the majority of 4th grade raising two female rats, I would have freaked. I mean, it's not every day a pirate hands you a rat that has been living in his hat. At that point my friend Lauren arrived, and you can read about Ian the Pirate from her perspective at "Ian the Pirate: part 2"