I was dimly aware that something was happening, but it was still dark, like I'd temporarily gone blind. Or maybe there just wasn't anything to see. The only thing I was sure of at the moment was that I was feeling as if something was trying to squeeze me through an extremely small space. Not painful, really, but not comfortable.

When I...I don't know if woke up is the right phrase, but when I could see things again, I was lying on my back on what felt like cobblestones. Okay, I thought. I have been magically transported to downtown Portland. Stranger things have happened. The impression that I was in Portland, Maine did not change when I saw a horse and buggy go by. Horse-and-buggy rides are sometimes a thing that happens in Portland. It was only when I saw a bunch of dudes that were clearly in eighteenth century British navy uniforms that I started getting suspicious.

"Maybe they're...historical reenactors," I said to myself. Yes. That sounded plausible. It sounded less and less plausible as I walked around and examined my surroundings a bit more. A history buff like myself could not deny it. I was no longer in the year 2010.

I was also no longer in my t-shirt and jeans. Whatever mysterious force had brought me here had also given me a change of clothes: now I was wearing an old-timey shirt, a vest, and breeches. And boots. The boots were pretty cool. I was trying to focus on the small things to avoid totally flipping out. Then, despite my efforts, I was gripped by panic. My violin! I patted my back and was relieved to find she was still there, safely in her case. (Yes, she's a she. Her name is Garland.)

In a daze, I wandered around some more. I had a horrible feeling that I knew exactly where I was, but I didn't want to admit it to myself yet. However, the evidence was too much to ignore. I heard a couple of people talking about the promotion ceremony for a Captain Norrington that was going to happen in a week. I went past a blacksmith shop that said "J. Brown." The most damning evidence of all, I saw poster that said "WANTED: JACK SPARROW. REWARD 10,001 GUINEAS."

Well, wasn't that a kick in the pants.

I guess if I had to be put into a movie, Pirates wasn't that bad. It could be worse. I could have been sucked into Troll 2, or Titanic, or Marley & Me. I had really liked it when I was younger, and there had to have been good reason for it. I was just gonna have to deal. Step one in dealing with it was going to have to be earning some money to buy food. My stomach was grumbling. Good thing I still had Garland. Sitting on a small rock wall by the edge of the street, I opened up the case, took out the violin, and laid the case on the ground. I had done a little busking before, but usually out of boredom rather than need, and obviously never in the 1700s. I thought very carefully about what song to play, trying to think of the old-ish ones I knew, and decided on one called "One-Horned Sheep."

Three people passed by without even looking at me, but the fourth dropped a coin in my case. The fifth dropped two! I'd have enough for dinner in no time. Unfortunately, at that moment, I had attracted the attention of one of the navy guys.

"Move along there, you," he snapped.

"Who, me?" I said innocently, not stopping my playing.

"Yes, you. There's rules about street performers, you know. You must be licensed."

"And what makes you think," I said, "that I don't have a license?"

"Well, do you?"

I stopped playing and grabbed my case, scooping out the coins. "I'll be going, then."

"That's what I thought." The navy guy looked smug. "Don't let me catch you fiddling around

here again, or there'll be consequences." I kind of wanted to punch him, but I had a feeling that was not conducive to staying out of trouble with the law.

"Don't worry about me! Model citizen, I am," I promised as I put my violin in the case and walked away. Without realizing it, I'd started speaking with an Irish accent. Lordy, even in a different universe my mother still follows me. Oh well. Might make it easier to blend in, since modern American accents didn't exist yet.

I examined the coins in my palm. They looked kinda coppery, so I guessed that they were pennies. I couldn't remember exactly what it was worth these days, but hopefully it was enough for something. I wandered around for quite a while, but by the time it was beginning to get dark I'd found a tavern called the Rowdy Rooster. I sat down on one of the stools, leaning on the bar to talk to the scary-looking guys behind it.

"Fellas, I'm famished, and I've got exactly thruppence. What can that get for me?"

"Bowl of gruel," one of them said, "aaand...some bread."

"Jolly good," I said. Jolly good?Something is wrong with me. "I'll have that, please." The word "gruel" sounds kinda gross, but it's really just...oatmeal. It was actually good-sweet and warm. As I ate, the warmth seemed to spread all over me. "What's in this?"

"Oatmeal," said the bartender, "water, bit o' sugar...oh, and brandy."

I choked and started coughing. My eyes watered. "Oh," I said. I'd never had alcohol before. If my mother had known, she would flip.

Cool.

I worked out a deal with the Rowdy Rooster guys. I'd play my violin for the customers, they'd give me meals. The sailors and pirates who frequented the Rooster were usually drunk and easy to please, and I had plenty of songs in my repertoire. It was fun, except for the time one guy tried to grab my ass. I may have elbowed him in the chest, and he may have squealed like a pig. But you didn't hear it from me.

As the days went by, I thought a lot about what I knew was going to happen by the docks, just a short walk away. Jack Sparrow would try to sneak onto that ship, Elizabeth would fall in the water. It was tempting to check it out and see everything happen right in front of me. Eventually I decided that if I did, I would just stroll on by. No meddling, just casual observation from a distance. I wasn't sure exactly when it would start, but on the appropriate day, I waited until about noon, strapped on Garland, and headed for the docks.

While I was looking around, I ran right into someone. It didn't hurt all that much, but the impact sent me staggering back. "Hey, watch where you're going, pal!"

"Could say the same to you," the man said irritably. I looked up. Holy balls. It was him! I had just bumped into Jack Sparrow.

Oh no, I thought. He's hot.