Can an 80's Themed Masquerade Party Go Too Far?

I Think Perhaps So...

Though until recently you would have been hard pressed to convince me that tacky could be taken to a limit that challenged the limits of the human mind, I am now a believer. While the evening was

amazing and I have found a new appreciation for all things Halloween, I have also gained a new appreciation for the term “burning the candle at both ends”… not to mention. I managed to secure my fair share of show stopping dancing I also spent my evening making sure that people didn’t pass out on the sofa with their face in a plastic bag they found to vomit in.

Needless to say I partied like it was 1999. (Obscure song reference any one? Any one? Bueler? No… okay…) Once all our little goslings were tucked away and cleaned up however I remembered that my Maritime Studies Paper was due… the next morning… as was my Oceanography test… and Nautical Science Packet. So at long last I have finally reached the equilibrium between colligate scholar and wild Salsa god. Yes, I know. It’s hard to handle. Be still your beating hearts.

It should be mentioned that on the preceding morning I played doctor and my supply of Asprine and Orange Juice is now suverly depleated.

Death Looms on the Anatares

“Death Looms on the Anatares”

As Autumn begins to burrow her way into the soft pink flesh of the crew of SEA 202 a conflict began to grow with the trudging diligence of a basement fungus eating its way through the food stores. Recently in their charming little cottage team “A” house was prying their feet off the sticky mess that was once their kitchen floor as muffled moans of disgust emanated forth from the first floor bathroom. Ashley emerged to announce that the toilet bowl was filled with stale urine and toilet paper. Worse yet, it was brimming with the wrappers of toilet paper rolls and had managed to secure a three foot entrenchment of encrusted urine around its base. Before we even had time to quell our gag reflexes Wayne held up a pan of stew that had been multiplying in the kitchen sink for an incalculable amount of time.

The counter was already littered with the empty remains of Nyquil bottles and cough drop wrappers for the plague had begun to spread with alarming speed. The time had come to act. With throats developing promising careers as bacterial cultures and fevers higher than pulses in the Wednesday night YMCA geriatric pool aerobics class there was an unspoken thought that something must be done. The first thought was to marshal some sort of cleaning regime so as to prevent further civilizations from forming in the moist section of our house. Secondly we deemed that the first floor bathroom should be sealed shut any time we expected members of team “B” house or team “C” house to come over to visit “Jack” or “Carlo”. Should they be able to mount the daunting second floor stair case to use our upper facilities then we would assume that their agility and clout would be sufficient to allow them to also possess accurate aim. There by ending our need to lay down newspaper around the toilet. And thirdly we deemed in necessary to resurrect a mopping formation from my old days in the service of the Emperor back at Little Caesars. Now armed with color coded push pins on a weekly schedule mounted firmly in the main hall, and with a new found zeal for combating bodily fluids we strapped on latex gloves (provided handily enough from my Wilderness First Responder Pack) and readied to launch our assault on poor house keeping.

The Adventure Begins

Our Vessel "The Seamans"

Having little or no belongings (other than a medical kit that weighs more than Letterman's ego or Jay Leno's chin) I have departed for the East coast where my rigorous Sea faring life and consequential soul searching begins.

Upon my arrival to Massachusetts I quickly discovered that no one is whiling to pick up a 6’ 3”, tassel sporting, adventurer with his mane of curls blowing in the evening breeze. So I have spent the vast majority of my funds on taxis piloted by wary East Coast drivers hoping only to survive our encounters. However I have no problems resorting to theft or my inevitable fall back of charm… which has notably yet to work, but I am still hopeful.

Regardless, after a series of TSA inspections (none of which have involved a thorough search of any of my cavities yet…) and a fourteen hour endeavor across the nation in planes the size of Honda Insights I have arrived and the classes here have begun.

] It is still a few weeks of before we board our vessel, the Seamans, but fear not for our instructors have seen to fill our schedules with a meticulous study program involving roughly four years of Nautical Science, Oceanography, Celestial Navigation, and Maritime Law and History in a month or so.

Our Finnish Oceanographer has also informed us that the entire voyage will be filmed for documentary purposes and that we will be receiving our red beanies on Thursday. The word is still out on whether or not we will be receiving Glocks.

Until I actually have a glorious encounter to write about I hope you all are doing well. Cheers.

- Capn’ Chris