The Great Typo Hunt_ Two Friends Changing the World, One Correction at a Time - Jeff Deck [97]
“Sorry, it’s just hard to believe that I’m back here,” I said. “And just when we got a handle on why typos happen. Too bad this is the end, huh?”
He chose to take my query at face value. “No, we’ve still got one last hunt to do with Jane, remember?”
We went back out to the trunk and started hauling our bags and other detritus inside. During these labors, I realized that my return was missing something, a certain crucial action that would close the circle of this journey in satisfying, Campbellian form. I checked my watch. We still had time to kill before Jane came up from Allston.
“Why don’t we take a stroll to Davis Square?” I said, strapping on the camera and Typo Correction Kit. “There’s a score I have to settle.”
We headed down the street, and when we came to a particular sign hanging on a particular fence, I stopped and stared it down. Benjamin whistled. “That’s the one, isn’t it?”
“That’s the one,” I affirmed.
NO TRESSPASSING.
“Do it, man,” said Benjamin. “Time to drive the ruffians from the Shire.”
I knew how best to handle this ancient foe—with the final dregs of the bottle of elixir that had served me so well in skirmishes around the nation. I uncorked it and slowly painted over the second s, not with malevolence, but with a sense of justice at last being done.
“Tresses shall henceforth be freely passed,” I declared in ringing tones.
We circled the Square, if that’s possible, and headed back toward my street. Jane called me then, on her walk to my house from the Porter subway station. We spotted her rolling her overnight bag behind her farther down Cherry Street, and she hid behind a telephone pole—then burst out and pelted into my arms. “You’re not gonna leave me again, right?” she said into my shoulder.
“I’m here to stay,” I murmured back, closing my eyes and enjoying her nearness. And I would have stayed put, had the choice been up to me, but an awful destiny awaited Benjamin and me.
Jane and I reluctantly disengaged, remembering that we had one last hunt to do. We swung by my apartment to drop off her bag and prepare for a longer outing. I’d kicked off my mission in Boston, and searched out and corrected typos in various strange territories. Now I would have to complete what my NO TRESSPASSING correction had begun, and face my own neighborhood, here north of the Charles.
The three of us crossed into Cambridge and took a stroll down Massachusetts Avenue. Our party lent a nice symmetry, I thought, to the circuit of the League. Josh, Benjamin, and I had hunted in L.A.; Jane, Josh, and I had hunted in Seattle; and now Benjamin, Jane, and I plied TEAL’s trade here at home. The afternoon remained brisk. We strolled under a bright blue sky.
Independent shops and eateries festooned the road down to Harvard University. We popped into them along the way, enjoying the day and browsing their wares. How this hunt contrasted to that first one I’d undertaken in Boston. Then, I had not known where to search out typos, and when I had stumbled across a few, I drew back from them, hesitant and afraid. Now we wielded our corrective tools with impunity, buttressed by the solid stone of our experiences.
As we wandered through a craft shop, Jane asked, “Is TEAL all done?”
Benjamin chuckled. I said that I’d like to see us go on and do more, that we ought to carefully expand our mission. I also had an interview coming up with Boston’s Fox News. This would be the last typo hunt for the trip, though, so in that sense we’d reached the end.
“Can I help you prepare?” Jane asked, her eyes anime-wide with enthusiasm.
“Sure. Ask me a practice question. I’m ready.”
She maneuvered over to where Benjamin was. Though they’d only met today, they were already getting along well. He whispered something to her.
“So,” she said, holding out an invisible microphone, “where did you guys end up finding the most typos?”
The classic question. Everyone asked it sooner or later. “Everywhere,” I said. Starting out, I’d heard many snarky comments about