October 24, 2012
I would like to thank the two lovely ladies who kept me from spending Friday night locked in the Independence Park Library with the likes of Oscar Wilde and John Grisham. My wife and dog join me in this expression of gratitude; spaghetti on the stove, leash at the ready.
You see, it never occurred to me that the library would close at 6 o’clock on Friday, or any other night for that matter. So when the lights went out while I was happily perusing the stacks for a new mystery, I thought nothing of it, accustomed as I am to South Louisiana power outages.
I suppose it was the quiet that finally alerted me to investigate further. Walking to the front desk, it became nauseatingly obvious that I was absolutely alone. Panic growing in my chest, I bolted for the door, the book in my hand setting off the anti-theft alarm.
What a relief to see these two ladies there, one of whom was turning her key in the final lock. Incredulity on their faces as they saw me — hands pressed to the glass, wide-eyed, barely suppressing a scream — they unlocked the door.
Expressions of apology exchanged, they were even so kind as to return to the desk to manually check out my book, the computers, like the lights, being quite dark. My embarrassment was my only admonishment, aside from their delicately informing me that they were not entitled to overtime.