So what's a pirate to do when he wishes to woo a fine wench in an atmosphere befittin' his station? If there be coin in his pocket and time on his hands, he sets sail for the Spring of Silver in Maryland, where be Piratz Tavern, a tasty bit o' stuff less than a day's march from the Metro's Line o' Red.
Flickering in the darkness ye see a veritable nightmare of swords and skeletons...this not be an eatery for the faint of heart. There be but one challenge (and it be a doozy, me friends). When me mates and me stepped in through the Tavern's door, we was met square in the face with the Pirate's worst enemy, the innocent laughter o' children!
Yes, me friends, the foredeck of this eatery is a place for families and other landlubber types. It be sickening to me guts and almost made me turn round and sail fer' home, I ain't afraid to tell ye. But past the searing smiles of the happy familes be the Davey Jones' Locker Bar, a place where true pirates be found.
Tis there that a fish outta water like meself can sit and sup on Salmagundi, the pirate's stew, and Grog, the deadly concoction of rhums and spices no landlubber can endure without a designated navigator for the voyage home. The food be tasty enough, me think, but the real excitement be found on the walls and behind the bar, where One-Eyed Mike serves up fresh Grog with tales of the seven seas.
The author, Peg Leg Santoro, in his natural environment with a mug of grog.