It’s been awhile since I’ve been to a library. I don’t like germs. I don’t like people. I stopped borrowing books after finding dozens of hairs between the pages of War and Peace. People would ask me to go to the library. I told them I could not read and eventually they stopped asking.
But when National Library Week came around, I decided to go, a week late. You know, wait for the National Library Week crowds to die down. Armed with Purell and an uncanny ability of holding my breath to stop germs from invading my body, I entered the Towson Public Library–a building shaped like a kaiser roll. The lobby’s vending machine, loaded with rice crispy treats, is a nice touch but doesn’t change the fact the library looks like a flying saucer.
Once embedded among the literature, I wondered, are people supposed to be talking? Because I heard talking and children shouting. How was I suppose to get any work done? Overall, my library experience did not reveal many differences from years ago. Except for the man in sunglasses staring at me. I probably should have reported him.