It has been a long time, dear reader...
Blegh. I hate sentences that contain the word 'dear reader.' It sounds creepy opposed to cuddly. Like something you'd hear when you're alone in a library...and the lights aren't working...and a voice too close to your ear breathes: 'How are you...DEAR READER.'
*shudder*
In all honesty, this is what I expect at the library here. OH DON'T GET ME WRONG. It's almost the exact same twin as the one back home... Smaller, yes, but has the same dystopian!Russia look to it. Which is actually one of my favourite architectural styles if you must know... And no, I don't know what the style is really called...* I decided to visit it some days ago because HEY I'M A DEDICATED LITERATURE STUDENT OH HOLLA~ and figured I needed to find Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas a little earlier than last minute. So in I waltzed. Within the first five seconds of being in the foyer I was asked if I was lost. And here I thought I looked sophisticated and dashing. I was directed to a lift and up I went. Of course, I had no idea how to look for the book I needed but figured the system would probably be the same as the one back home.
OH HOW RIGHT I WAS. Right down to it being a LABYRINTH.
Now, again, I'm not complaining. Libraries, aside from the cute but politically threatened ones you get in your local town centre, are supposed to be big and intimidating. I guess. The referencing system does make sense but no one takes the time to actually figure it out. I am full of literary bravado so I figure THIS LABYRINTH CAN'T TAME ME.
Now the building has a light-saving obsession, I guess, which is something new to me. Basically the rows and rows of books are smothered in shadows. Oh yeah. Smothered. Got the fancy words out.
Dragging myself along the shelves, I squinted at the spines, trying to figure out what books were where.
'Yes... Yes, now this definitely is the right section... Virginia Woolf... Henry Fielding... Weird order but... Ah. Now where can Hunter S. Thompson be? ACK!! WHAT IS THIS. REFERENCE BOOKS. NO. NOT REFERENCE BOOKS. ON AGRICULTURE? WHAT IS THIS AGRI-COOL-CHAR YOU SPEAK OF? HELP ME. OH GOD. IT'S SO DARK. HELP. HELP. HUNTER, WHERE ARE YOUUU!!'
I stumbled blindly into the light...of the corridor. A startled looking woman stood there blinking at me. I rearranged my bag and coughed.
'Are you lost?'
'I'm looking for Hunter S. Thompson.'
'...'
'I'll try downstairs...'
It took me three days to try again.
I still can't figure out how to turn the lights on...
What could possibly go wrong?
Do you know what I hate? GETTING STRANDED. I have a trip to Boston this Saturday and it's my number one fear. That I will get there early. Be there on time. And the bus will never show. I'll be stranded. Yep. I blame this event.
So a group of friends and I decide to head to the nearby mall. The uni does runs to it every Friday. A timely schedule! INDEED, HAHA, INDEED! But not so much. You see, a shuttle bus usually drops you off and picks you up in the same spot. This was the same as the last mall trip. It went like clockwork. Pretty much. Give or take 40mins whatever. The shuttle bus this time left on time! We arrived. We shopped. We missed the earlier bus but hey let's get food and talk and stuff. THEN. OH, THEN.
We waited in the spot where the bus should pick us up. Waited. And waited. AND...WAITED.
Within 20mins of waiting past the time needed, we came to only one conclusion: the bus would never return and we must begin to make shelter. Any leaves or trees in the vicinity became objects of salvation. YES. We would be saved. SAVED. We could make a tiny bonfire. Cook the ridiculously large ants that were crawling all over the carpark and feast. FEAST. FEAST ON THE DELICIOUS-- Madness became our only reality.
We phoned for information and were met with the equivalent of a shrug but...like...in sound. You know?
We contemplated phoning the emergency services. The life guard. NASA. All those dudes.
Then we remembered that one of us had a load of friends present elsewhere there.
Long story short COLLEGE KIDS FAIL. High school kids saved the day.
As we headed back, we passed the DEMON BUS which refused to pick us up.
There was a moment when our smouldering eyes of madness met the confused glance of the unknowing bus driver. Then we were gone... And the bus driver sneezed...and continued driving.
There is no moral to these tales...
Other than... BEWARE OF AWKWARD TRANSPORTATION. AND FIGURE OUT HOW TO OPERATE LIGHTS IN THE LIBRARY ELSE YOU'LL NEVER FIND YOUR WAY OUT AGAIN AND WILL HAVE TO LIVE IN A SHELTER CONSTRUCTED FROM NOVELS BY BURROUGHS, ATWOOD AND BECKETT. /actually that'd be nice!
-G~
*Brutalism? I...?
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