A few months ago, I had my sister over to play some Scrabble on the roof deck. As I faced my Ph.D hunting opponent, her eyes still bleary from incandescent library lighting, a word occurred to me that would forever tip the scales of the game. Being a scrabble enthusiast, with a “metaphor” dropping Bingo in my highlight reel, I do not say this lightly. But before revealing said (or tiled) word, a bit of explaining and scene setting is in order.
One of my roommates is quite given to bouts of enthusiasm. He also has tremendous, at times almost stubborn, focus. When these two personality traits collide, beware the project that has caught his concentration. Let’s just say that if he had a background in medicine, a stubbed toe would be about the greatest of our concerns; there would be no disease left to cure.
While he toils away, it’s hard to get a word out of him, and it’s understood to let him be. But it’s easy to know when he’s overcome his latest endeavor, as a resounding “ShipoW” will resonate throughout our home, followed by a detailed explanation of what was wrong, what he tried that did not work, and how he finally slayed the beast. Needless to say, ShipoW has become a token call of the house, no matter how minor the victory.
Which brings me back to the roof deck, and one of the oldest stories in the world: territorial sibling battle for game board domination. From veritable minefields of Pee-Wee Herman inspired contraptions to catch you with nets and marble triggered buckets, to beautiful houses where, no matter how refined or Dickensian the names on the guest list may read, someone always gets a lead pipe to the dome, and even amongst backdrops of cotton candy and pudding monsters, this battle has waged regardless of landscape, time, and worlds. This particular evening, it was over a grid of blues, pinks, and coveted reds.
As Churchill reflected, “History is written by the victors.” As I recall, I sat upon the roof with the stars shining brightly directly over my head, while, oddly enough, there seemed to be a rather overcast backdrop looming over the other side of the table where my sister resided. Odd, I know, but weather by the Pacific can be fickle. Anyway, I digress. As I sat there with an imposing and stalwart posture reminiscent of a mighty redwood, tumbling the letters over in my head, a word and opportunity occurred to me. It was an easy tempered game for once, perhaps maturity has in fact reached this final frontier, so I felt comfortable in the suggestion being well received and not seen as an opportunity to change the game to my advantage. Thus, ShipoW! Scrabble was born.
All the traditional rules of play apply. However, there is one very important addition. The Unabridged Oxford English Dictionary is of little to no consequence. If your letters can form a string that appears to you like it should be a word, it is. As long as you can craft a suitable definition that passes the critique of those with whom you are playing. You can be as elated as you’d like over your recent etymological unearthing, but if your opponents cannot see the benefit of a new word to be hacked and dismantled by textual harassment, it doesn’t fly. And oh yeah, if the word passes the committee, upon putting down the final tile, there’s a certain something that must be triumphantly trumpeted.
I presented the suggestion to my sister, and as we are not currently playing any game and so can admit that she is, in fact, awesome, she loved the new addition. Her excitement then floundered, if only for a moment, as immediately after she agreed to the latest terms of engagement my tiles hit the board:
“D-U-E-R-I-U-M. -noun: A state of delirium brought on by an overexposure to the Duey Decimal System. Common amongst library enthusiasts and graduate students.” It is also a Bingo.
ShipoW!
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