I’m sitting on my balcony at 3am, thinking about Star Island. I touched on where it was, what it was, and why it was fun being a groundskeeper there, but really, the Island is so steeped in history and interesting stories, you would never be able to record them all.
Nothing on the Island made sense to me when I was younger – everything from Lovers Cave to the Poop Plant. They shot for a wind turbine, only to have it blow up, and treating their own poop was interesting for a while – Which was fun, because when the poop plant overflowed, it overflowed into Gosport Harbor.
You know those cool streaks of luminescent animals glowing green as the waves hit the rocks? you betcha, poop lights! Flush the toilet (they used seawater) and little green lights would communicate with you from their advanced civilization forty thousand years beyond the Sun.
I must have stood there shit faced for a half hour one night, staring at the toilet trying to figure it out, when Dave Browns voice was heard in the darkness ‘They light when you agitate the water – now go to bed – tomorrow I will explain magnetism’ – except he never did.
The poop plant guys were actually some of the few people out there I liked – I mean the guy walks into the chow hall at lunch, gives you a big hearty handshake and introduces himself as the guy running the plant. I never asked if the gloves were clean, I was honestly afraid to ask.
So there you go, walking by the exploded wind turbine, and hoping you are upwind, not downwind from shit tank central, and you spot another thing both beloved and hated on Star – Yes, I speak of the Sea Roses.
Doing anything on Star was a act of Congress, so sometimes we pulled a Ninja trick or two. I wasn’t joking about the fucking grass – it’s an ISLAND – the grass has snakes, rodents, bugs and other things, the grass should be manicured. It IS a convention center after all but nooooooooo ….
Every year without fail I’d run into some soul who was just impossibly happy – you know, the one who sees beauty in everything.
The one you just want to throat punch, if you could only figure out a way to get away with it. The one who looks with great disdain at the lawn tractor and bitches at you for cutting the lawn. ‘Oh how could you? just look at it will ya? so wavy and beautiful … wavy grass, just so wavy …. look how it waves’ and meanwhile I’m wondering if I can run THEM down without clogging the mower.
It worked the same way with everything else on the Island – The Sea Roses were a fire hazard and everyone knew it. Super happy people would remark how pretty they were, but they were never native to that rock. They were an oily variety, and how they never had a brush fire in my years, I never knew. We sprayed and cut back where we could, but it was no use.
Seagulls? nasty dive bombing shit machines – rats with wings – gull pucky everywhere. You would have to carry a long stick to go to the back of the Island, as they would attack the highest point and let the turds fly. It was their way of protecting their nests, that always seemed to be conveniently placed in the middle of a trail.
Want to have fun? tell your friends ‘gulls are afraid of red’ and pass out some red shirts, for your walk (YES, the dreaded Smuttynose Death March but more on that later). The hilarity of watching former friends running for their lives cannot be truly told. How some of us actually made it back to the mainland on the supply ship without being tossed overboard, truly baffles me.
So, I’m rambling about the things that lived on Star, the things we tried to kill on Star, and general Star things but the story isn’t over without talking about the pigs. Yes, you and I call them dinner, but remember, this is Star where I once overheard the cook state ‘What do you mean, of course this counts as meat, see, right on the label ‘Meat of Walnuts'” – and you wonder why Lions eat their young?
The Island kept pigs out behind the Oceanic. The idea was to keep them, and feed them scraps from the Kitchen. Who didn’t love the Pigs? However, I don’t think they thought this one through. You see pigs eat, pigs poop, pigs become tasty pork chops – and you had one very large carnivore roaming the Island.
Didn’t anyone stop to think about what to do with the pigs after the season was over? Did they really just think they went away to a special place where they would live out their lives in a cage free environment, eating non GMO and gluten free veggie diets. I can’t take ownership for any of the post season shenanigans, but I can tell you that they are a bitch to get on a boat, they DO get seasick, and word on the street is they were tasty – or so I’m told
Next time, it’s ghost stories because before the modern day Star, people were dying all over the place, from haunted caves, to winter life in a fishing village, to the Beebe Cemetery. Pass the Apple Sauce