I pause, thinking. “That might be considered racist terminology, Tita.”
She shrugs. “Sorry,” she says unapologetically. “Pirates spent a lot of time in the sun. Like our ancestors did. Pirates and Filipinos are both brown and proud. Let’s re-appropriate the word.”
“Aye aye,” Oliver chimes in.
“Arrrwe ready to set sail?” I ask.
“Gangplank’s up,” Tito Ben responds.
We all walk to out to our cars, feet crunching in the gravel of the driveway. Tita Gloria and Tita Ben head for Oliver and Georgia’s rental, so Lina and Frankie walk over to mine.
“Fancy,” Lina says about our car. “Where do you charge it in Fort Greene?”
I mumble my answer, so as not to sound like a douche. “We have a spot in a private lot with an electric charger.”
“Daddy says it costs a small mortgage (mor-jig),” my daughter very helpfully chimes in.
Lina looks at me with confused horny eyes. My hypothalamus wants me to screamI’m rich, too!at her, but that’s just too much.
We get in the car, and Sir Better Safe than Sorry makes sure everyone is buckled in before pulling out of the driveway.
“I have no idea what to expect when we get there,” Lina says. “This is such a niche thing. I’m kind of excited.”
“It looks nutso,” Frankie tells her. “There were sea monsters in the water and all the paddle boards were decorated like pirate ships and there was buried treasure and maps,” she tells us, all in one breath.
“And it’s hot out,” I add on. “Can you please have some water and hydrate before we spend the next few hours running and swimming around?”
I hear four eyes roll in the silence of the car.
“And start applying sunscreen, please. So it’ll absorb by the time we get there,” I say, ignoring them.
We drive for a few minutes, then start approaching what the GPS claims is Our Destination. The only thing indicating a Pirate Plunder is a small A-frame sidewalk sign with a crudely drawn skull and crossbones, which bodes really well. We pull into a dusty lot.
We all pile out of the car and I lather an annoyed and bouncing Frankie up with sunscreen because she obviously didn’t do it, while Lina tries to distract her with historical facts about the actual pirate Blackbeard. We learn that to scare his enemies, he would stick matches into his giant beard and light them because they would burn slowly and give off lots of smoke.
Lina and I simultaneously clock the exact moment Frankie starts to Get Ideas, so the Blackbeard lesson quickly turns into a fire safety lesson and a whole bunch of reminders.
“Tharr she blows,” she screams, slippery body wrenching away from mine and running towards the beach after I finally finish. We join a handful of other families with young kids on the walk down.
We approach an acne-ridden teenager perched on a stool, wearing a pirate hat, trying his hardest to disappear or, at the very least, to fold into himself. Parents are standing around the very empty beach with looks on their faces ranging from confused to annoyed to outraged. Beyond them, the inlet seems like a wide, shallow river, stretching maybe five hundred feet across before reaching the land on the other side. There are several paddle boards tied together in the water with skulls painted on them, much like the sign. There are maybe three or four inflatable neon-colored things sporadically placed in the water.
“Hey, man.” I decide to go with the gentle giant approaching a timid kitten approach. “What’s going on?”
“Welcome to Pirate Plunder,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say, with a huge smile. “We’re really excited.” I motion to Frankie, who has already made two friends and is explaining how to light beards on fire to look scary.
He shrugs.
I give him a moment.
He gives me nothing.
“So…”
“When do you plan on getting started?” Tita Gloria asks impatiently.
He shrugs again, using only one shoulder this time. “You can go ahead.”
