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What happens at the Store? Many have said that upon entering the best pirate supply store in San Francisco, they get a sensation of déjà vu. Others walk in and feel at once the miracle work of an unseen hand. Yet there are those whose eyes bulge and shrink simultaneously while their thoughts are so convoluted that they are unable to shout or mutter the question that most plagues them: “What is this place?” The store log is weekly account of actual events that occur in the shop, as well as testimonials, comments and complaints from our customers. April 24, 2006 A woman came in and told me she had been shipwrecked off the coast of Maine eight years ago. She was sailing with her four-year-old son and a friend when it turned stormy and they hit rocks. The boat sank, and they were stranded on an island overnight. They were eventually recovered and rescued by some lobstermen. April 20, 2006 Today I did mop head research to replace the mops in the trap door. Every janitorial supply place I called asked me, “What is the application for your mops, ma’am?” I had no idea what that meant. But now I know. Sometimes your application is a rough surface. Sometimes it is a large, moist surface. Sometimes it is a dry but dusty surface. My application is heads and shoulders. But I did not say that. I did learn that there are many types of mop heads. To wit: April 15, 2006 Overheard in the store: April 10, 2006 An older man picked up a one-shilling coin and remarked, “Oh, here is Elizabeth back when she was pretty.” April 09, 2006 Two men stood in front of the store window, talking for about twenty minutes. One wore a black fedora hat and the other wore a black beret and gesticulated widely. The man wearing the fedora came into the store after his companion had left and I asked him what had drawn him into the store. “It seemed less lonely than out there,” he replied. April 08, 2006 April 03, 2006 So the construction worker who bought the kids doubloons and also filled a hole outside 826 Valencia last week was back when I arrived, working outside Paxton Gate in the pouring rain. Around 1 pm I glanced outside, and right in the middle of the sidewalk, directly in front of the black asphalt patch, a black, shoelaceless, men's leather shoe sat. I didn't recall seeing it when I first arrived, and the street was fairly empty now, considering that the construction workers had finished their business and the weather was cold. A couple walked by and the girl just stepped over the shoe. A half-hour later, the shoe had moved, so it now rested alongside the black patch, with the tip directly pointing at the street. I realized that it was a left shoe. Moments later, a man rode up on a silver bicycle, lay the bike on the ground, looked at the shoe, picked it up, examined it, then dropped it back onto the sidewalk, picked up his bike, and as he rode away I noticed that he had a pair of gray New Balance sneakers in a plastic Safeway bag tied to his backpack. The shoe remained on the sidewalk for the rest of the afternoon. I debated whether or not I should add it to our box of boots, but it certainly was not a boot, so I let it be. April 02, 2006 |
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