It was such a goofy idea that Whil Piavis didn't think about what he might learn when the adventure began. He and his friends just thought it would be fun to make an irreverent run for student body president.

So they all dressed up like swashbuckling pirates and hit the campus at N.C. State University.

Then something bizarre happened. Crowds started gathering beneath the flag of the Jolly Roger. Supporters started wearing paper pirate hats from Long John Silver's restaurants. The story of the Pirate Captain -- the only name Piavis used in public -- attracted national media attention. The adventure became a yearlong journey.

Now the journey is all but over. A new president will be sworn in Friday, and Piavis (pronounced PEA-av-is) is still trying to process all that has happened in the past year. But he knows this much: Most people like pirates. Most student politicians do not.

"Whil Piavis is one of the most creative and engaging students I've worked with," said Evelyn Reiman, a faculty adviser to NCSU student body presidents for 15 years. "But he was an outsider, and that clearly worked against him.

"It's been a loss for those who couldn't see past the eye patch and the parrot."

Of course, it was hard at first not to stare at the patch and the parrot -- not to mention the scraggly wig that looked suspiciously like an old mop. And even after his real name was revealed, Piavis insisted he remain the Pirate Captain.

"Students elected the Pirate Captain," said Piavis, a junior from Cary. "How could I be anything else?"

Bowing to tradition

But Piavis is a bright guy who understood his predicament straight away. He represents 30,000 students. His job required him to attend a huge range of events, from memorial services to meetings with trustees. There were times when a guy in a wig with a funny accent wasn't going to cut it.

On those occasions, Piavis shed his pirate gear for a suit and tie. But he drew the line when it came to student government meetings.

If the Pirate Captain couldn't call his own shots at the Student Senate, what was the point of havin' a scurvy crew and a three-cornered hat? So a pirate he was -- right down to the letter of his written reports.

More than a few mateys in the Senate hated the lot of it.

"I think the vast majority of us were open to seeing him lead," said Erich Fabricius, a graduate student and seven-year member of the Student Senate. "They wanted to see that the pirate was not some stupid gimmick but a brilliant strategy to get elected. But he never shifted his approach into becoming a regular leader. It got old pretty fast."

Piavis said those who waited for him to become "a regular leader" were missing the point.

"A regular student government was exactly what students were sick of," he said. "No one paid attention to them. I thought the election made that point."

Instead, the Pirate Captain found himself fighting to a draw in meeting after meeting with the Senate. Some members even tried to ban pirate language and clothing.

Piavis had less and less to say to the Senate as the year went on.

Even the simplest of goals became points of conflict. Hoping to leverage the earlier enthusiasm for pirates, Piavis suggested that students who earned good grades be given buttons that read "It's a Pirate's life for me!" with a little A+ on the button. But the student government refused to pay for the buttons, and he had to turn to alumni for the money.

"The entire organization just separated," said Forrest Hinton, Student Senate president. "It was very polarized."

On campus, the buzz of the spring election faded by fall. Today, most students can't name a single accomplishment of the Senate or the Pirate Captain, although a few recall the pirate buttons.

And most people know that relations between the two sides hit a low point this spring when the Student Senate unsuccessfully tried to impeach the Pirate Captain with seven weeks left in the school year.

Fabricius defended the move, saying it was based on evidence that the Senate had accumulated over the school year. But coming as late as it did, the effort looked petty to many students and faculty. Letters to the student newspaper, The Technician, ran heavily in favor of the Pirate Captain. Even university administrators objected, effectively killing the process.

Despite the problems, Piavis would do it all again -- right down to the pirate gear. "Some of them still don't get it," he said.

Besides, from his captain's perch, Piavis saw the reach and influence of a huge university he never knew. He offered his thoughts to, and was offered insights from, countless administrators.

And he learned an important lesson about politics: It be a rough world -- even for a pirate.