Blowing the Raspberry
Saturday, March 8th, 2008Silver Spring, MD
Since I’m talking about Saturday in this entry, I’ve backdated it to the 8th. I learned a couple more valuable lessons on Saturday– how my education grows and grows! One is to find typos earlier in the day to avoid a late-night rush to scrutinize every miserable nugget of text around me. The other is that finding typos while in an alcoholic haze is a near-impossible undertaking.
One lesson already learned, that of not blindly putting my trust in Authority, was well put to use on the drive from Lansdowne to the D.C. area. I had prepared beforehand in Raisha’s apartment, printing out directions from Google Maps, and so when Authority attempted to direct me off Garrett Road before I was supposed to leave it, I responded with a crisp “Not this time, lady!” Eventually, to my satisfaction, Authority fell in with my directions and was helpful from then on. Yes, I thought, she can be trained. The weather was less than fun, once again, with heavy rain and wind most of the way, but I kept Callie going slow in the righthand lane for most of the journey. As I approached southern Maryland, I could see a patch of blue sky ahead, crowning a row of plump, inviting cumuli. When I rolled into Silver Spring, the bright sun and warmth seemed to me a hero’s welcome. Or at least a hint of pity.
I’d be staying the night at Benjamin’s girlfriend’s place; Jenny and Benjamin were gracious enough to let me intrude with my sleeping bag and my assorted crap before I stole the man away from his lady for about twenty-five days. You’ll be hearing a lot about Benjamin, I wager, but I should offer a brief introduction of my first traveling companion (were this one of my beloved role-playing video games, first a triumphant midi would play and then you’d see the message “Benjamin has joined the party!”). Mr. Benjamin D. Herson is an old friend that I first became acquainted with in a writing workshop sophomore year in college. It would touch off several years of collaboration and support in the heady and crushing world of fiction writing. After graduation we moved down to D.C. to get an apartment together for the purpose of co-writing a novel. About three years later, the damn thing was finally done, and… the response from the literary establishment was, shall we say, underwhelmed. Benjamin has worked at a few different Borders bookstores, eventually becoming renowned for his ability to whip lagging stores into shape. At the same time, he was building his presence in the Unity church he attended, and soon his rousing, occasionally slam-poetry-inspired sermons were in high demand. Needless to say, he’s an interesting dude.
I was able to get out of Benjamin and Jenny’s hair for a little while when I met up with my friends Paul and Kari for dinner in Georgetown, at Pizzeria Paradiso, which I am happy to report is largely typo-free, but for a small error in the drafts menu that my camera was unable to pick up. As I mentioned, I lived in the D.C. area for a few years, but rarely did my wanderings take me out to the privileged avenues of Georgetown. This particular place was a familiar haunt for Paul and Kari, though, who’d venture out from Alexandria periodically to take advantage of the nice pizzas and fine beers. The former I enjoyed because they could take my old nemesis, the tomato, out of any variety, and the latter for the pleasant circumstances of being able to drink with good friends. But, perhaps, I enjoyed the beer too much. When we hit our second stop for a (failed) attempt to score a pool table, I realized my eyes were fogging up to an inconvenient degree, especially as typo-hunting was concerned. Nevertheless, I did spot some questionable interpretations of the word raspberry and snapped a photo, which, I’m pleased to show you, actually sort of came out (click to enlarge):
I would have made an attempt to correct it, but I seemed to be having trouble with my motor functions at the time. Now that I look at the picture, there’s another typo on the menu besides the two butcherings of raspberry… see if you can spot it!
We spent some happy moments watching drunk people try on construction cones as hats, and then Paul and Kari brought me back to Silver Spring, where I realized, due to the time change, I was banging on the door not at two a.m., which would have been bad enough, but three. Fortunately, Benjamin decided not to injure me (this time), and I crawled into my sleeping bag in the darkness and dreamt of adventures to come.
Totals
Typos Found: 12
Typos Corrected: 7