Waking Mr. R

You may have climbed mountains. You may have been to France. You may have gone to an Ivy League school. You may have piloted a B24 Liberator over Berlin on a cloudy night during June 1943. But you've never roused Jonathan Rosenbaum's ass out of bed. Not like I have. I needed the phone number of another critic at the Reader. Their office was closed. I had Rosenbaum's cell phone number. So I called it, and the poor guy was sleeping. I felt completely mortified. May you see the Great Wall of China, but may you never wake one of your heroes up when he's trying to sleep in on a Sunday morning.