Years ago, I was a volunteer crew member on a square-rigged sailing ship owned by The Ocean Institute in Dana Point, California. The crew would gather every Saturday to maintain the ship. As a reward, we would get to sail it for two weeks at the end of summer. Occasionally, we had some inner-city teenagers on board so they could have the once-in-a-lifetime adventure of sailing on a tall ship. They learned to climb up the 90-foot-high masts, and experienced firsthand the teamwork required to handle the ship’s 14 sails.
It wasn’t all hard work and discipline. We would occasionally stop for an hour so everybody could go swimming. That always included suspending a rope from the yardarm so we could swing out Tarzan-style and plop into the ocean. Every rope on a ship has its own name. This one we called the “Splat Line” after the sound we made hitting the water.
The kids could hardly wait for a crack at the Splat Line. Unfortunately, one kid had broken the drawstring of his swim trunks, putting this would-be Tarzan at risk of a mid-air wardrobe malfunction. Worse yet, the broken string had pulled completely out of its channel through the waistband. I knew a number of sailor’s knots that we all had to learn to qualify as crew. But none of them would be small enough to allow the repaired string to be threaded back through the waistband. That would require some kind of splice that wouldn’t increase the diameter of the original string. Splicing was beyond my skill set. We needed a knot expert.
Fortunately, we had one on board. Charlie, the ship’s bosun, was a charter member of the International Guild of Knot Tyers. He’s the one who taught all the crew members their required knots. His handcrafted canvas tool bag showcased dozens of decorative knots and intricate macramé. If anybody could solve this problem, it was Charlie.
He came over and sized up the situation. He then reached into his tool bag, pulled out a roll of duct tape, and wrapped a piece tightly around the kid’s waistband. Problem solved.
Books have been written listing 101 uses for duct tape. Oddly enough, despite the name, none of the books recommend using duct tape to seal or repair heating ducts. In fact, most state building codes specifically forbid the use of ordinary duct tape for this purpose. It doesn’t have the right type of heat-resistant adhesive. Maybe it should be called “good-for-everything-except-ducts” tape.
The most unusual use for duct tape I ever encountered was when I was on a bird banding expedition in Panama. At one point we went to Barro Colorado Island, which is in the middle of the Panama Canal. For some reason, that island is overrun with wood ticks. The project leader told us to wrap duct tape, sticky side out, around our pants cuffs, waistbands, and shirt cuffs. It worked like a charm. Unfortunately, it didn’t shield us from the barrage of rotten fruit and monkey poops that the Howler monkeys threw down on us for intruding on their territory.
A few years ago, the front strap on one of my sandals broke, causing the sole to flop loosely with each step. It happened at a time when I had to walk a half mile to where my car was parked. It was like walking with a swim fin on one foot. From that time on, I have always carried a flat, pocket-sized pack containing six feet of duct tape. So far, I haven’t had another sandal strap break. I suppose it’s like how it never rains if you’ve brought an umbrella with you. I’m sure the day I forget to carry that tape packet, I’ll wind up doing the frogman two-step again.
My worst experience with duct tape was when I used it to secure a large plastic sheet to cover an open doorway overnight while the door was out for repairs. The next morning, I found that the wind had blown the tape loose, and a gecko had gotten himself plastered spread eagle on the tape. It took me almost an hour using an artist’s pallet knife and tweezers to pry the little guy’s toes and tummy off the tape. Just as I finally got him free, he scampered off the table and onto the floor where my cat was patiently waiting. Need I say more?
Before I send this article off to the magazine for publication, I plan to read it to the Ajijic Writers’Group. They meet on the first and third Fridays of every month in the courtyard restaurant of the Nueva Posada Hotel. Every meeting, about a half dozen writers read their latest works to the group so they can get constructive comments from the experienced writers. The hotel has a beautiful Scarlet Macaw parrot, appropriately named Scarlet, in a large cage alongside the outdoor restaurant. Sometimes, if the parrot hasn’t been given her lunch on time, she will let loose with a series of earsplitting squawks punctuated with what I can only assume are Spanish curse words. If this happens during a writer’s presentation, it definitely breaks the train of thought of the audience.
I always worry that she will squawk during one of my presentations just as I reach the punch line. I’ve been lucky so far. But if she decides to chime in while I’m reading this article to the group, I know exactly what I’ll do. I’ve been practicing in front of a mirror, like Robert DeNiro did with his pistol in the movie “Taxi Driver.”
I’ll wave my tape packet at the bird and say “Hey Scarlet! I’ve got a pack of duct tape here, and I’m not afraid to use it.” Problem solved.
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