- One middle-aged biker gang in full leather regalia cruising up Hwy. 101
- Two young hipsters having their picture taken with a large chicken made of oil barrels
- A wiener dog sporting a red, white and blue crocheted sweater
- A saleman wearing three different types of plaid selling “real” bonsai trees for $10
No pirates, though. So, clever girl that I am, I decided to check the places where the thirsty pirates could get a fresh ration of rum. The Novelty Store (our town’s name for the liquor store) and the Pharmacy (Garibaldi’s name for the liquor store). Note to self: check to see why small coastal towns don’t call them liquor stores. I also checked the Pirate’s Cove Restaurant to no avail.
If not rum, perhaps jewels are the answer, so I even checked the Treasure Chest Antique Shop. I thought it was a long shot, but there was a big picture of a bulging treasure chest on the sign outside which I had hoped might lure them in. Nope.
I did see Jerry Garcia selling kettlecorn in a tie-dyed t-shirt while riding a large red tricycle—is that close enough?