I finally went to Dinosaur BBQ up by Columbia, only to find it had been infested by ghosts. Twisty white wisps of ghostiness twisted up from the roof instead of delicious-smelling barbeque smoke. We took some pictures. On the screen of Joyce's digital camera, the ghosts looked past us with empty stares.
So we decided not to get barbeque.
Instead, we attended a happy hour I'd organized for young publishing professionals. There was a pretty good turn out.
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