With my major finally decided, my parents insisted it was time to look into a certificate. Something that would make me stand out from the sea of graduates when looking for a job. I knew exactly what to search for. Unfortunately, piracy doesn't exist at UW-Madison.
Now, I don't mean music piracy. I mean peg-leg, talking-parrot, master-of-the-seas piracy, preferably without scurvy.
I know it may seem a little strange - maybe not strange for me, really - but these last few years a passion for history gave me the idea of a certificate in piracy. Now, a certain trilogy with a pirate theme may have had something to do with it - Johnny Depp really shivers me timbers, if you know what I'm saying - but in all reality, I think it would be a great fallback career. Set your own hours, have a great suntan year-round and never pay taxes - I think if I can avoid the British fleets I can avoid the IRS.
I fit all the criteria. I love mayhem and rum and already have the fear-inducing nickname: Megan the Malicious. I was going to grow a beard like Black Beard, but that would just be creepy, not terrifying.
I can picture it now, traveling the world screaming Argh!"" ""Avast ye dogs!"" and ""Cowabunga!"" That might not be authentic jargon, but that's why I need classes. I crave to live a life of high adventure and get all that booty - money, for those of you who don't know pirate slang.
However, piracy isn't all fun and games. There is the constant task of escaping capture in unique and daring ways. And there just isn't the same demand in the field as there used to be, so lackeys could be hard to come by. If Captain Hook has taught me anything, you must fear crocodiles, and possibly sting rays ... I still miss Steve Irwin.
This is where my need for schooling comes in. Piracy 101 would teach the basic tools of the trade, such as cannon-loading, intimidation of victims and how to wear those funny hats without looking ridiculous. This class would obviously require a guest lecture by Mr. Depp to cover the hat-wearing unit. Maybe even two or three lectures; it's a pretty complex topic.
Of course, there must be an extracurricular class whose sole purpose is to build up your tolerance of rum so that you can maintain a constant state of drunkenness and still pull off successful capers. All these will build a successful future of stealing riches from the billionaire yacht-owners of the world. Thankfully, my friend Alex happens to have one I can practice on.
But who would teach such a course? I have a man in mind, the infamous Dr. Troxel. If one should ever take a class with this man, consider yourself blessed. He makes Biblical Literature fun. If he can do that, I believe he could easily rule the seven seas, along with his faithful TAs, Jonathon and Steve.
With ""The Trox's"" guidance, I could become a fledgling pirate in no time. I may have to take night courses, as UW doesn't condone the rebellious streak in people like The Trox and me, but how could they not recognize our fearsome power with a certificate?
Yes, as I stepped up on stage to receive my diploma on graduation day, I would proudly hear my degrees called out. Then, as the next person in line distracted the crowd, I would give a cry of ""Har-har!"" and pull a Jolly Roger from my robes. Dagger in teeth, I'd make a daring escape to Lake Mendota, where my boat and crew would be waiting. I am not sure how we would get out of the lake and into the ocean, but I have a couple years to figure that part out.
If you want to join Megan's pirate crew, or learn more about the scholar that is ""The Trox,"" e-mail her at mcorbett2@wisc.edu
