WASHINGTON – 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, Md., 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 last week, is only one sign that pirates aren’t just for Halloween anymore.
The current interest in all things Jolly Roger ranges from “Got Grog” bumper stickers to annual pirate festivals in Seattle, Baltimore, 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.”
“Aye, right now is a great time to be a pirate,” said Couey (for whom every day is talk like a pirate day). But he is quick to point out that he was swashbuckling before swashbuckling was cool – or at least before it was so heavily marketed. “My mother always told me I was born in the wrong century.”
The Santa Rosa, Calif., native grew up an avid surfer in a family of navy seaman. He started playing serious pirate games in middle school, and his love of backyard swordplay grew into a passion for fencing and then sword choreography that he pursued in college.
“That’s how I lost me eye,” he said, pointing to the patch.
Yes, the patch is real. And yes, he lost it in a sword fight. Almost a year ago, during the opening of the previous installment of the “Pirates of the Caribbean” series, Couey and another pirate were hired to perform promotional sword battles at a mall near Annapolis. The routine was carefully choreographed, and they had performed it dozens of times when his exhausted partner surprised him with an accidental lunge.
“It sliced me left eye right in half,” he said, with something like pride. “I was back performing the act within two weeks.”
Couey did acknowledge, when pressed, the seriousness of the injury. But he also relishes the pirate cred it gave him.
“Absolute prestige,” he said with a grin, getting up to deliver a steak to a table on the back patio. “I’m hailed by pirates near and far.”
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