This is how the madness begins, I thought. I’m not going to lose my mind by taking too many classes or crazily attempting to avoid my many nemeses (did I say nemeses? I meant “strange acquaintances”!). Nope. Instead, I can blame my inevitable insanity on the mysterious pirate music.

I’m used to hearing music from my window. Occasionally the frat across the street likes to rock out (to Carly Rae and Jepsen and Nicki Minaj, no less) during their Saturday-night barbecue shindigs, but since it’s cold enough to close the windows by about 6 in the evening, I can easily drown out their pop-girl musical stylings with a pair of headphones and my iTunes library. And plus, it’s not nearly as bad as the horrors I had to endure every night back when I lived right over the Risley Theatre. Carly Rae may be insipid, sure, but at least her producer’s computer keeps her in tune.

But today is Sunday, and I’ve barely finished washing up from lunch: I wouldn’t call this prime time for groovin’ of any sort. Especially not with Klaus Bedelt’s “He’s a Pirate”–one of the most recognizable themes from a certain movie franchise centered around a mischievous rogue played by Johnny Depp–blasting from your speakers.

Exactly a week ago, I heard this song playing in the courtyard for the very first time, and was kind of delightfully surprised. I mean, how often is instrumental music ever played loudly in a public place? Excited to discover the intentions of my mysterious pirate-inclined pals, I took a look out of my window–and that’s when the madness started in earnest.

There was nobody in the courtyard, but the music kept on playing for the duration of the song. It wasn’t coming from a car driving by–the sound was right below me. When it stopped, though, I shrugged and returned to my homework. No big deal. That is, until today’s little dose of déjà vu (or, perhaps, déjà écouté?).

Well, being the introverted investigative reporter that I am, I somehow managed to keep myself from dashing down four flights of stairs to see what was going on firsthand and instead merely changed my viewing angle. I positioned myself as far right of the window as I could possibly go, and then–jackpot.

In today’s issue of People Magazine, we have a shot of Master Chief and Sir Lancelot disputing during their romantic getaway in dreamy Ithaca, NY. (Seriously, if the people in this picture ever see this–sorry for being a paparazzi, guys.)

And, in an instant, the Society for Creative Anachronism (the group I assume is responsible–after all, Risley only has one other sword-wielding group to my knowledge, and my source in that fine organization informed me long ago that they meet on Saturdays) saved me from thinking I was losing my grip on reality and hearing pirate music that nobody else did.

Swords, Pirates, and (what appears to be) homemade armor on a Sunday? Only in Risley.

Fun Facts for Those Interested in Being Creative Anachronisms: I found the Ithaca chapter’s website–seems pretty cool! And yup, there’s a mention of practices at Risley. Good sleuthin’, guys. Clearly I should go become a private eye.