An Evening of Music - and confusion

     What's wrong with the above picture? 
    There's a major, typo, one that got by me (who made it), the printer, the videographer, and, as of last night, all of my students and their parents and guests.  Or at least no one mentioned it last night until after the recital was over and my nephew Randy,  

here with Tommy, helping me sort  the post-recital chaos piled up on my kitchen table,

informed me that I'd made a major typo on the program.  But even then I couldn't see it until he'd pointed it out. 
    Can you find it?
    Ah, well, it seemed to be an evening of confusion, anway.
    But not on our performances, thank goodness.

Everyone breezed calmly through their pieces.

   Except maybe me.  I was a little nervous. 
    As well I should have been, had I known how the evening was destined to transpire.
    It was all about the pizza.
    Last night was our Pizza Recital, as my Spring Recital is known.  I have three recitals a year, each one catagorized by my students according to what's served at the post-recital dinner-reception  (see post from   4/10/2014).  After the Spring Recital recital we always have pizza.  Hence, the Pizza Recital.
    I'd been ordering my recital pizzas from the same place for all the years that I've been having pizza recitals, but this year I thought I'd try a different local  establishment that I'd heard had really good pizza.  
    I stopped by this pizza place, talked to the very nice manager and made the arrangements to have 10 pizzas delivered to Peace Lutheran Church Connexions Center at 7:30 pm on the dot on Thursday, March 26 (if you haven't yet figured out the typo on my program, this is a big hint).  The manager assured me it would be no problem.
    Except that it turned out to be.
    On Tuesday evening March 24 around 7:20 pm Tom, whom I'd given as the contact, received a  call from the pizza driver who said that while in the round-about he'd had to brake suddenly and all 10 pizzas had fallen and were scattered on the floor of his truck but that he'd go back and get us 10 more.
    Aside from the obvious problems with this scenario, the pizza shop was a straight shot down the road from our venue at Peace Lutheran, while the round-about was at least four miles out of the way.
    I called the pizza place, whose manager had by then been apprised of the situation, and was promised that the confusion had been cleared up and that our pizzas would be delivered promptly on the correct date and at the required time.
    "Thursday, March 26, 7:30, right?"  I said.
    "Right!"  the pizza person assured me.
    The morning of the recital the pizza manager called me again to confirm my order.
    "Peace Lutheran Connexions Center, 7:15 pm,"  he said.
    "Actually, that should be 7:30 pm,"  I corrected him.
    "Oh, right.  So that's 10 pizzas, Peace Lutheran.  7:15 pm."
    "Um, 7:30 pm?"  I said.
    "Oh, right.  7:30."
    "7:30,"  I repeated for good measure,  "Can you get them there at 7:30?"
    "Sure,"  said the manger, "7....let's see...30."
    "Right,"  said I, "7:30."
    I should have capitulated to 7:15 and cold pizzas.
    Anyway, the recital came off without a major hitch,

...until it was over and I stood before the audience, thanking everyone and then inviting them to enjoy the rest of the evening and have some pizza.
    It was at that point that I noticed Tom standing at the back of the auditorium trying to catch my eye, his arms spread in dismay.  I knew exactly what he was trying to communicate to me.  It was 7:35 and our pizzas were nowhere in sight.
    "I called them,"  Tom told me after I hurried back to find out what was going on, "and they said the pizzas would be here any minute.
    Which turned out to be not true,

...but fortunately we had some sides that the students' families had brought  to hold us over, along with some yummy desserts and a couple of crocks of mac and cheese that I'd made.  Every recital reception must include two things:  a crock-pot of macaroni and cheese,

...and my special recital mini-cupcakes, here being iced by my daughter Theresa.
    We must always have these.  it's recital tradition.  Or maybe more  like recital superstition.
    In fact, in the weeks prior to the recital my students start asking in anxiety-tinged voices if we'll be having the macaroni and cheese and the cupcakes.  I always assure them that we would never have a recital without the mac and cheese and  cupcakes. 
    And I never would. These are our recital good-luck talismans.

    Anyway, our pizzas finally arrived at 8:50.
  

And, I must concede, they were phenomenally good pizzas, with as close to New-York style crust as I've ever had east of the Hudson River.

    And as for why the pizzas were so late, Tom relayed this explanation to me, which was the best he  could piece together from what the driver told him:
    It was all the pizza computer's fault.
    The pizza computer is evidently this HAL-like brain (as "2001, A Space Odyssey") that is programmed each morning for the day's pizza-producing activities.
    They had programmed the computer for 10 pizzas for 7:30.  So at 7:15 the computer announced that it was time to start baking the pizzas. 
    Which were done promptly at 7:30.  Of course, they still needed  to be boxed and delivered.
    "So see,"  said the deliver man, "if you wanted your pizzas here at 7:30, you should have ordered them for 7:15."
    This must be the New Pizza Math.
    I can't say the pizza shop manager didn't try to educate me..