I love the New York Public Library. (I mean the one in midtown, obvi. The others are all imposters.) I love the lions out front. I love that Bryant Park is conveniently located behind it and that Bryant Park has the best public restrooms in all of Manhattan so you can read for hours without being concerned about mother nature’s inevitable call.
And I love that the iconic New York Public Library with the lions out front and Bryant Park behind it isn’t even where you want to go for your adult fiction. Nope. That’s across the street, at the Midtown Library. But you only know that if you’re a NYPL veteran. And I am. Mostly because I’m terrified of accumulating books which I will eventually have to move out of my fifth-floor walk-up.
So, that’s my intro into this story just to be sure no one makes the mistake of thinking that I’m ragging on NYPL because I’m not. I love it.(Love it!)
Today I was there paying off a fine (which means I’m the laziest of lazies because all I had to do to avoid that was renew the book online before it was due. And I didn’t. It would have been five minutes of my time, I know. Leave me alone!). It was only $1.50 so I wasn’t too upset about it and it didn’t take long to get through the line, pay my fine, and leave.
On your way out of the NYPL, you have to go through security. There’s a guard who looks in your bag to make sure you aren’t stealing books, presumably. Ok. Fine. I can handle that.
There were two guards on my way out of the library today. One was totally normal, doing his job, checking bags like a mo-fo. The other was multi-tasking, checking bags and singing explicit lyrics loudly to himself, sans headphones, also very much (perhaps even more so?) like a mo-fo.
Just a bizarre scene. Imagine little me, opening my purse for a man looking straight ahead at the wall behind me and singing none-too-softly “get the f*$K out!” and then me getting my bag back from him and automatically replying “thank you.”
Oh New York. Oh Life. Oh Libraries…