Not long ago I saw an advertisement in a local paper for what looked like a most fascinating class. My life had grown stale; it was high time for me to try something new, so I enrolled. The idea of learning about subjects as diverse as shipbuilding, sailing, swordfighting, pillaging, loot appraising, and fine rum thrilled me.
It turned out the class actually was about proper breathing, something called a “powerhouse,” and a series of exercises designed to increase flexibility and core strength. I can’t say I didn’t feel stronger and more lithe after just one class. Moreover, my classmates were quite friendly; indeed, as the only male in the class, I was (despite the skull-and-crossbones t-shirt I’d chosen for my first day of school outfit) pretty much catnip. Still, I felt a tad let down, like I’d been the victim of a bait-and-switch routine — until I reviewed the ad for the class and realized I’d misread one letter in the course name.