The spy who loved me ... and other pirates

I met him two years ago. Handsome and quite tall, he spoke several languages. He was traveling with a friend and the two would stand off to the side speaking quietly to each other. They had a look of mystery about them. He wore top line dive gear and carried an amazing camera. When he ascended from a night dive the light on his rig lit up the ocean. On the dive boat, in my rental gear, I was intimidated. But not shy. When one collects pirates one simply can’t be shy.

International Spy, Jacques

I approached them both and asked if they were international spies tracking a criminal in Cozumel (spy movies are often set in exotic locales, aren’t they?), it seemed a reasonable question. They laughed pretty hard and we struck up a conversation. They both assured me that they were not international spies. (Yeah, right). Jacques (yes, that's his name) offered to share pictures from his dives. True to his word, I had them in my in-box about a week after vacation.

This last spring my office phone rang and a mysterious voice asked me to confirm the date our next vacation. Confused I asked who it was. “This is Jacques.” Really, how did you get my work number? “I’m a spy, remember?” Yes I do. We aligned our calendars and planned to meet in Cozumel in May. It’s awesome that his work takes him there so often – must be a hotbed of international criminal activity.

In the middle - Michael, James and Vince

I’ve met a few other interesting pirates in Cozumel as well. There is of course, Michael, a true pirate of the Caribbean. He’s even had me smuggle things into Mexico for him, like Everclear and Lipton Onion soup mix! (Never argue with a pirate). And Vince, the guy who talked Dan into his tattoo. And James – you’d know him if you saw him. He is the “world’s most interesting man.” And he borrowed my red bikini bottoms to wear as part of a costume. That’s a confident pirate.

Partying at the dive shop a couple years ago with Michael, Vince, James and the beautiful Laurie Ann, hilarity ensued until Vince said “In the years we’ve worked here you two are the freakiest women we have ever met. Let’s all go back to our house for dinner.”

Years ago there was pirate Bruce (before I even knew I collected pirates). A few of us were whooping it up one night at the long-gone Wimpy’s Hunt Club. Bruce and I were particularly boisterous. Wimpy approached Dan and said “If your wife and her friend can’t settle down you’re all out of here.”

Then there is my Wisconsin pirate, who we don’t see enough since he moved farther north. DJ, the most adorable bartender ever, had stories of Key West and run ins with police. His stories always stopped just short of disaster, but you knew he had lived a wild life. His margaritas remain the stuff of legend.

Three of my four current pirates have facial hair. As my seven loyal readers know, Dan shaves twice a day, and I remind him to shave when he’s stubbly. But when my pirates greet me I get a kiss and I don’t mind one bit.

A few weeks back Dan apparently missed his Friday evening shave. Saturday morning one thing led to another. Later Dan apologized for the stubble. No worries I told him. Show me a woman who doesn’t fantasize sometimes and I’ll show you a woman who stopped breathing six minutes ago. It’s good to have pirates.