Brian, the Pirate.

I think I took this the same evening I captured the fishing boy. I've slowly gotten braver about asking people if I can take their picture but back then I had to work at screwing up my courage. Sandi, of course, assumes always that the subject at hand is going to go immediately off the beam, start yelling and screaming incoherently, and pull a gun on me (in this case, his flintlock blunderbuss), or slice me up with a knife (in this case, his pearl-handled dagger). She's going, "No, no, no" as I'm walking toward him, then, perceiving that I'm not stopping, hightailing it to the car. By the time I'm taking the picture she's revving the engine like a driver waiting for his partners to rob a bank.

I didn't ask his name but he didn't look like the type to have had his boyfriend's name tattooed on his arm.