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lucasisacomic · 1 year ago

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Gasparilla Pirate Festival, A Drunken Indifference

A fervor was at all time high if thousands of locals gathered to the year of our lord; January 27th 2024. A dull roar amidst from the crowd of cattle drunks; thousands of people aimlessly wandering the same side of the street inebriated and on hep knows what substances to get through existing

Floridians have been day drinking and socially intolerable for endless squelching summer years. We didn’t need a reason to drink handles of plastic jug whiskey, yet as the smell of boat fuel and freshly opened porta johns flooded our already dulled senses; we venture further into an empty bottle

Floridians constantly drink but rarely celebrate up until a reason, to which caution is thrown in the air and forsake moderation…Gasparilla was that reason.

Each year, for decades, screaming drunks ready in anticipation for a fake naval battle they know will come. Gospel is the same every year; The pirates come in the town, the mayor gives them the key to the city, cannon goes boom! Most people say there’s a boat parade and several dozen small side shows going on, but you would have to be sober and of right mind to know any of this is going on. This was never the case for Gasparilla, this is rarely the case for any of us at all.

Drinking in Florida stopped being fun and a necessity a long time ago, we just choose to ignore that ugly reminder by doubling down on the famous drunkards self-mantra — “if everyone else is bent why shouldn’t I?”

I knew that being sober in this crowd would get sent to the hanging tree as an outsider, so I decided in Scotchgard myself and keep one rolled.

I normally don’t smoke Black and Mild’s but I had no other choice today as slim pickings for rolling up one; Plus it fit the mood I was in; inhospitable but get ready to party.

People who smoke Black and Mild’s are not good people. Not saying that they were born evil, but they groove through such hard lives that the only way they can have any enjoyment is by smoking a disgusting cigarette like black and mild. That disgusting burnt tar taste in your mouth is the only moments of happy you’re going to get,

Black and Mild’s was my only way out.

After smoking what appears to be the entire bag and throwing a club soda in my face, I was ready to interact with the locals

Gasparilla attendees are like the men and women on death row; they have a sad morose to them, but they are eager to talk and tell you about their lives. They would trade parables with one another as they spent years of years going to these festivals and expecting nothing but the same. Half these people weren’t even dressed like pirates, The overwhelming allure of public intoxication without criminal charges is too sweet, like fresh baked cookies out of the oven were too hard for most to handle.

It wouldn’t be unexpected to see several acts of debauchery and violence not unlike the pirates from before; like the pirates from before we had no restraint. I see overindulgence at even the most basic animalistic level, for Gasparilla attendance drinking during 95-degree heat was no different than waking up in the morning and taking a eye closed piss

It’s not unexpected, it’s just commonplace.

The first hour I saw at least a dozen people passed out face down in the sand or in the dirt or in the or in the hot concrete pockets fully emptied shoes taken gone. The vultures have stripped his caucus clean as other pirates’ step around the fallen drunks and inebriated.

For them their moment of prosperity has passed to others who are unable to see the inevitability of their own fate.

For blacking out in the sun was their Mecca

What forces people to give dude give up all sense of control and delve into depravity? Is it because they finally have a weekend to do this, and they go back to normal lives? No… for most of these people drinking during the day was their lives they need an excuse to get out the house

Day drinking is their part of their existence just like the men who are caught wearing women’s clothing and high heels of stonewall… They we’re walking definitions.

Hours and hours I walk through the cattle call of day drinkers and degenerates; it wasn’t until later in the afternoon where I try to find respite and some shade under a bridge,

The heat is due unbearable, and I am not high enough nor foolish enough to let it stop me, but alas I do collapse from the exhaustion as I lay under a bridge nearly passed out. Dripped in sweat I lay down to recuperate; never fully rested; trusting no one and clinching to my tape recorder; if it was taken from me then all of this would be for not;

I close my eyes for a couple seconds. Every time they open up, I see new people; each blink is a new scene of similar faces; an amalgamation of drunkards with black and red attire. asked the local drunk next to me to keep an eye. “Don’t let those mutants get near me” I stammered at the local drunk; for all intents and purposes let’s call him The Captain.

The idea of names and Gasparilla is futile like free parking or sunburn less days.

Even If remembered his name it wouldn’t have mattered. You’ll never see this man in the same way twice; Your local drunk pirate is also your banker or clergyman; but as if the outside world was shut out for 48 hours; he was nothing more than everyone else; a drunkard in fantasy land

The Captain agreed to watch over my sleeping body but asked me to watch him first; “Taking sleep shifts like the army” he slurred over to me. I wouldn’t know if this man was telling the truth or not about enlisting; in a world of liars the only truth is the one you choose to accept.

I shake hands with the crusty old pirate, and I take my first watch. The captain immediately slumped over, like a marionette with their strings cut from above; he didn’t snore nor close his eyes all the way; I shooed away any and all potential vultures that would steal from the Captains Quarters. “Get back you freaks or ill sick the dogs on you” I yelled while guarding the Captain.

10 minutes later I stumbly wake up The Captain; I needed my sleep if I were to venture further into the intoxicating haze that is downtown Tampa Florida

In a comical yet predictable moment of subpar clarity; he instantly unrecognizes my familiar face ask me who the hell I am and why am I next to him.

Dealing with a drunk is an average experience as it was commonplace as mentioned before, but never underestimate the radical free thinking and explosive tendencies of a drunk invigorate of the idea of self-pretend piracy. The Captain takes a while swing at me to which I duck and punch back. “Ill eat your heart you sicko” I snarled back at my former captain.

The Captains wife arrived at the scene of inquiry; a battle axe of an older woman, corset tighter and constricting like a Burmese python, The buxom Pirate comes up to me and ask what am I doing to her husband. Other drunks hear this and hear the rally call of the fellow inebriated and circle me; the one thing I didn’t want to happen happened…I was corned

The small patch of land I was in felt like Sal’s famous pizzeria from Do The Right Thing, familiar faces all circle around me shouting in tongues all wanting justice. The drunken fervor of a crowd couldn’t go many directions but one way, this can’t calm down unless the mob seeks justice.

Justice came for someone else that moment.

I couldn’t see what happened but the smell and the audacious comments from my would be attackers around me knew that was in the clear it seems that I drunken man has stumbled and vomited on the corset battle axes Adidas. Causing the mob of angry drunks to become disgusted and back away, one person pukes another person pukes and the chain begins.

I decided to leave in the confusion; opportunity wasn’t going to appear anywhere else.

I then walked 45 minutes to my car, to which I cranked the AC and started writing. I was taking up parking space and I didn’t care; I needed to write down everything I experienced before fatigue blurs the line between fiction and reality; what really happened today, in the year of our lord January 27, 2024

I would like to tell you that every year Gasparilla is a little bit different than each year is memorable for its own moments but it’s not, I would like to tell you that gas grill has some sort of meaning to it but it doesn’t. Meaning and symbolism is stripped away once the crowd of unruly citizens fed up and tired with her nine to five existences; they throw calluses to the wind and adorn costumes only to get drunk and show their true selves.

You can meet these same people at your local watering hole every Tuesday night drinking until they forget, yet on this day of our Lord January 27th 2024, before go all these previous formalities and evolve into an amalgamation of sweaty Denison’s shuffling throughout the city. I don’t think the pirates would invade us if given the chance; usually pirates invade places that have things to offer.

Gasparilla has nothing to offer but what is already been given to us; countless decades of oppression and self-degradation, all forgotten and thrown out within 48 hours of severe intoxication and drug use.

Yo Ho Yo Ho; It’s a pirate’s life for me

Lucasisacomic

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