Thursday, November 6, 2008

So this Grammarphile walks into the ghetto....

Okay, you guys, it's storytime! And do I ever have an entertaining story for you.

So this weekend, I was out and about in the big, bad city. I don't want to get into why I was there. Let's just say that I was...on a Top Secret Grammarphile Mission, because at least that sounds like it would be a lot of fun. Remember, I'm a girl who was born and raised in the Philly suburbs. This whole New York City place is a crazy, new world for me.

Adventure #1 involves the subway. I still don't know what the hell I'm doing on the subway. I'm a complete idiot when it comes to directions. I swear by the GPS in my car, but unfortunately, it's the kind that's actually attached to the car, and so it can't come out. Which means I'm pretty much screwed whenever I'm wandering around the city on foot or on train. Anyway, to get to the Top Secret Grammarphile Mission destination, I needed to take 2 subway lines. At first I'm very confused because the one subway line I needed to take first was running on some other tracks, but I finally figured out which one I needed to take, and I hopped on. Then I noticed that some of the subway stops weren't matching my HopStop directions, and I kept convincing myself I was on the wrong train. So I got off the train, stood around at the subway station, wondering what train I should be taking, and then coming to the conclusion that the one I needed to be on was...the one I was just on. So I'd wait for the next one of those trains to come by, and I'd get on it. Repeat this process...four times. Four fucking times. Oh, I know. You don't need to tell me. I'm directionally retarded. It's part of my charm.

I managed to then connect up (without further incident) with the second subway line I needed to take to arrive at the Top Secret Grammarphile Mission destination. I got off the subway (which is the start of Adventure #2) at the proper stop and headed out of the subway station...and there it was.

The ghetto.

And there I was, in a leopard-print coat, designer jeans, 4" stiletto heels, and carrying my favorite gigantic Betsey Johnson handbag.


This is not good.

As far as I can see, I am the only person of my gender and race anywhere on this street. Which is not to say that people not of my gender or race are bad people--not at all. It's just that it was crystal clear that I was different.

Very different.

The last time I'd been on this particular street, I was not alone and it was broad daylight. This time, I was alone...and it was dark. And I had several blocks to go in my 4" stiletto heels in order to reach the Top Secret Grammarphile Mission destination.

Double fuck.

And so I walked...because really, what choice did I have at this point? I think even the cabs were terrified of this street, since I didn't see even one cab the entire time I was wandering around. Unfortunately, for reasons that were beyond my control, despite the fact that I reached the Top Secret Grammarphile Mission destination without getting riddled with bullets or cut up by some random stranger, I was unable to complete the Top Secret Grammarphile Mission. But guess what I did do, guys?

I snapped a picture for Red Pen, Inc! Behold:

I'm really confused by how they managed to spell a big word like evangelistic correctly, but screwed up the little word divine. Very strange.

So yeah, a significant portion of my weekend was spent wandering the ghetto at twilight, occasionally snapping pictures of misspellings...because what makes a leopard-print coat-wearing, designer jeans-wearing, Betsey Johnson-carrying, stiletto heel-wearing tiny white girl less conspicuous in the ghetto? Whipping out a cell phone to take pictures of random signs, of course. Obviously.

Really, my adventures in the ghetto weren't nearly as fun as I'm making them seem right now (you know, now that I'm safe and sound in my cozy little apartment that's not in a ghettofied area). It's just a damn good thing I have such a fucked-up good sense of humor, or else I don't know if I'd be able to laugh at this, considering that I spent the majority of my time in the ghetto feeling quite fucking terrified.

Actually, I'm really just grateful I wore the plain black stilettos on my ghettofied journey and not the gorgeous gray suede Miu Miu T-strap stiletto heels that I'd originally been planning on wearing. 'Cause if all that ghetto-walkin' would have caused me to do any damage to those beautiful shoes, I honestly think I would have cut a bitch. Any bitch. Just for the hell of it, out of sheer shoe rage. With the most dangerous weapon in my Betsey cuticle scissors. (Yeah, I know. I'm such a girl.)

And at least I got a picture of a misspelling for ye olde grammar blog. That's what really matters, right? ;)


Dave said...

Although the journey you took wasnt so great by ANY means, this probably is one of your best Red Pen posts to date. Keep up the good posting. And if anyone tries to stop you, just look them squarely in the eye and voice the question: Does the Grammarphile need to cut a bitch? hahaha


One of my mantras is that anything shitty that happens to me will inevitably become fodder for a great story. Hopefully, in this case, I accomplished turning something sucky into something good. ;) Thanks for the kind words!

EVula said...

I'm re-reading the story, making minor mental modifications so that it reads that you when to the ghetto specifically to snap that photo, thereby proving (a) what a badass you are, and (b) how dedicated you are to your loyal fans.


Ooh, Evula, I like those modifications. I love the idea of being the most badass little grammar geek in the state of New York! :)

EVula said...

Well, that we already knew. I see it as more an FYI for the new people, so that they can be properly introduced to your badassness. ;)


Ha! "Badassness"--I love it! :)