Searching for pirates? Just head over to A&E

  Michael Rosen-Molina Shiver me timbers!
Rosen-Molina be knowing authentic pirate jargon and ye be e-mailing
him at [email protected].

I should probably start by talking about pirates. When I began
work as on-campus Arts & Entertainment editor at the beginning
of the year, I had some vague notion that there should be more
pirate-related stories in the newspaper. However, because of a
dearth of pirate-related events happening on campus, there really
wasn’t much to write about, and my great plans came to
naught.

It made me sad to think that the year might pass ““ a year
full of press room stress, last minute rewrites, unreliable
sources, frightening publicists and book agents who only describe
their product as “incandescent” ““ without any
pirate-related hijinks to add levity. It seemed that the rugged
machismo and the earthy joie de vivre of those jolly sea rogues
would always be out of place in a serious newspaper.

But then I realized why the life of a pirate and that of an
A&E journalist actually had much in common.

Like a crew working together to weather the storm, everyone had
their place. Angela was the captain, keeping A&E on a steady
course and bringing us all safely into port and never losing hope,
not even in the grim early days when writers were as scarce as a
saving breeze in the doldrums, and the specter of daily production
loomed like the colossal devil squid that glides silently through
the watery penumbra.

Barbara would be the ship’s gunner, decimating an enemy
flotilla in a matter of seconds with her lightning wit. Emilia was
our pessimistic pilot, who foresaw every storm but never jumped
ship. Andy joined the crew late, but still epitomized the pirate
dream ““ rising from mere cabin boy to become the next captain
““ who made the supreme sacrifice to become next year’s
head of A&E. I would be boatswain, because I have no idea what
a boatswain does, but I’m sure that it’s very
important.

And now these old salts are off to Fiddler’s Green. Andy
now takes the helm, and with his new crew of Suneal, Mary, Sophia
and Chris coming up from the brig, sets sail in search of fabled
treasures. Avast!

They were part of our crew of hearty buccaneers, the dedicated
writers, who battled in journalistic sword fights, forcing the
Caribbean authorities ““ who would be the sources ““ to
relinquish their doubloons ““ which would be quotes ““
above the swirling maelstrom that might well represent the time
when design started or something.

Then there were the occasional visitors to the A&E cubicle,
the outsiders who added a flash of color like a pet parrot or a
tame monkey, reminders that there was a world out there beyond the
walls of the Bruin office: landlubbers, like Ian and Eamon, who
kept this salty sea dog well-supplied with hard tack and lime water
over the course of the voyage; Joe, “Denmark,” and
“Capt. Blimey,” who kept the quarter’s Norwegian
wharf rat-free; the tavern wenches Jennifer, Marie, Heather and
Vivian, who supplied grog whenever we put into port; and Dory, who,
like a mermaid briefly glimpsed off the port bow, sang the haunting
sea shanties that waft through the briny night.

Yes, A&E is much like a pirate galleon where, through hard
work, perseverence and the occasional keelhauling, we all made it
out alive. And, yes, the analogy might be forced, perhaps even
downright stupid, but the most important thing ““ the thing
that we should always remember ““ is it allowed me to write an
entire article about pirates. Arrgghh!