A Swig o' Grog fer Ye, Matey?

As the Pirate Craze Sails the High Seas, Md. Tavern Indulges Lubbers' Inner Rogues

(Marvin Joseph/twp - The Washington Post)

It's not because he works in a pirate-themed restaurant that "One-Eyed" Mike Couey acts, dresses and talks like a pirate.

It's the other away around.

The lithe 26-year-old with the flashing black eyes -- er, eye -- sought a job as a waiter at the Piratz Tavern in Silver Spring because it was clearly the right gig for someone who has been sporting eye patches and puffy sleeves, on his own time, since he was 13. For Couey, the swashbuckling persona is not something he assumes for work hours; it's his everyday lifestyle.

"It's become part of who I am," Couey said during a break at the tavern on a recent Saturday evening. He wore baggy black pants, a sky-blue sash and the requisite full-bodied sleeves. "When I walked in, I was wearing a full-length steel sword. They hired me on the spot."

In fact, Couey wasn't particularly unusual when he went job-hunting in period-perfect seagoing attire. The tavern, which opened in September, has tapped into a deep pool of hard-core aspiring pirates, both workers and patrons.

The popularity of the "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies, the third of which opened this week, is only one sign that pirates aren't just for Halloween anymore.

In the Washington area, there are at least two groups -- Merrick's Privateers and the Pirate Brethren -- that spend the occasional weekend wearing tricorn hats and banging cutlasses. In many cases, such pretend plunderers have the same strict standards as Civil War reenactment groups, scouring historical accounts and period literature for clues about how real pirates dressed, talked and fought.

The current interest in all things Jolly Roger ranges from "Got Grog" bumper stickers to annual pirate festivals in Baltimore, Seattle, New Orleans and other port cities. There is a "Complete Idiot's Guide to Pirates," a skull-and-crossbones Hello Kitty doll and a yearly International Talk Like a Pirate Day (Sept. 19).

"I had no idea this huge pirate community was even out there," Piratz Tavern owner Tracy Koudry said over the noise from the captain's table by the bar. Between the arrrgh-matey shtick of the "crew" and the grog-fueled antics of regulars with bandannas and plastic daggers, it sounded more like a West Indian frigate than a suburban cafe. People "started applying before we even opened. There's something about the danger, sexiness and freedom of pirates that people are really into right now."

At a time when the only genuine pirates are hijacking freighters off Somalia or bootlegging DVDs in Beijing, many of the stylized, old-fashioned version are flocking to the storefront restaurant on Georgia Avenue where a half-dozen Jolly Roger flags flap over the sidewalk.

"A lot of people came out of the woodwork when the Piratz Tavern opened," said bartender Charon Henning, wearing high black boots and a shimmering green peasant blouse with grinning black skulls. "I heard about it from a belly dancer I know. There aren't that many chances for us to get paid to play dress-up. And pirates are big."

Henning is a veteran of Renaissance festivals who not only brandishes swords but swallows them (and she has been known to pull them out with an olive on the tip).