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Photo by: Zach Stovall

Capt. Salt-and-Pepperbeard’s first law of inhibition states that there’s an inverse relationship between inhibition and distance from the mainland. This accounts for why Caribbean beach bars have a reputation for prompting their customers to let their hair down. It stands to reason, then, that a bar untethered even from a small island would foster an atmosphere of shockingly low inhibitions. All of our training, all of our potent practice, has led us to the William Thornton, the Willy-T, an infamous floating asylum of alcohol-fueled debauchery. The suspense is palpable as we climb the gangway at 9 p.m. – to find that we’re the only ones aboard. The crew all but mutinies, but I quickly placate them with rum.

We stagger forward two hours, still with only our crew aboard the Willy-T: Blackbeard lurches up to the bar, slaps both hands down and says, “I demand to see a manager, please – I believe we have been overserved.” He then snorts, his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he runs full speed to the side of the boat and flings himself over, giggling like a pigtailed hopscotcher until he hits the water in a full-on belly-flop. Blackbeard was one of the most reserved of the group. We are clearly cracking under the pressure.

At some point, we find ourselves back on the Boatosaurus, or at least that is where we wake up with a troubling sense of ennui, debilitating nausea and vision problems. Cold beer takes care of the stomach and eyesight, but nothing solves the attitude problem until we decide to give the Willy-T another chance to live up to its legend. After a snorkeling foray, we return to the Norman Island Bight and prepare to dinghy to the Willy. And there is the infamy we seek. A crowd of sweat-glistened dancers grinds around the boat’s fantail. Grown men use roof supports as monkey bars, landing, occasionally successfully, on the slippery deck. A tan, toned and breathtakingly limber young lady off a visiting boat gleefully lays herself down on the bar, significantly less clothed than is normally called for, even in the islands. A bartender readies a can of whipped cream, and (…)

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