Beware the Ides of March

Today was Neptune Day, a day of pure silliness.  Dating back hundreds of years, it’s an initiation ritual for sailors crossing the equator for the first time.  Charles Darwin wrote about it on his voyage on the Beagle.  The Wikipedia article on it has a shout-out to Semester at Sea.

It is one of those loosely kept secrets.  We were warned we’d get dirty, we were invited to donate hair to make wigs for people with cancer, we were assured participation was voluntary.  We were advised to get sleep, because the festivities would start early. 

Faculty and staff members who have already crossed the equator by ship played the roles of Queen Minerva (Judy McLeod of Charlottesville, in a headdress of her own device) and members of the royal court.  King Neptune was played by Captain Jeremy, in a get up so bizarre it was only his English accent that revealed him to us.

It was pretty much impossible to get pictures.  Put 700 people on the pool deck and you can’t see the pool.  I got there early enough to get a stool at the bar, which was in the shade, but behind the royal proceedings.

The morning actually started with members of the crew providing a wake-up call, deck by deck.  They paraded through the corridors beating on snare drums and blowing whistles, dressed vaguely like Romans.  Hours later, the troops were assembled on the pool deck, waiting. 

Arch came.  He’s our rock star.  Everywhere he goes, he attracts a circle of attention.  When he started dancing, the cameras came out.  It did pull some focus from the Royal Court, who arrived to find attention was directed elsewhere.  No matter, they quickly took over.

To be inducted into the honorable order of Shellbacks, you have to prove your worthiness.  Basically, this is just hazing, but our version of it is good natured and tame.  The crew pours gunk on you (it looks like the fruit punch they serve for lunch), you jump into our tiny swimming pool, you kiss a fish (a real one, dead) and kiss King Neptune’s ring.  If you are willing, the Royal Barber shaves some portion of your head.

Jim was one of the barbers.  He estimated that 100 people had their heads shaved.  Arch was the first. 

Jim was at it for hours.  That part was not a secret, but there was no way to see the proceedings.  He reported later that he could barely breathe.  Students crowded in to see (and chant) from every direction.  It was brutally hot.

Finally, the barbers turned over their razors to the students.  There are now many boys and a few girls with shaved heads.  Or Mohawks, or other fanciful partially shaved heads. 

The water of our pool turned from crystal clear to brown.  The deck flooded from all the splashing, and clumps of hair sloshed from side to side with the deck’s motion.  The students started painting on each other with chalk and body paint they got in India.  I went down to my air conditioned office for some peace and quiet.  I knew Neptune Day was over when I heard the announcement that everyone needed to vacate Deck 7, leaving the crew to clean up after us once again.