I had a wild spring break
I was in the library this past Saturday. I was curled semi-comfortably in a grandma-colored chair in the southeast corner for two hours reading a book I ought to have finished earlier in the week. It was very quiet. Too quiet.
With 110 pages down, I gave myself the normal reward of checking Facebook at the first floor computers. I walked past the library check out desk. It was empty. Too empty.
I investigated. A mystery like this? How could I not. I marched right up to the desk to find the spring break hours posted modestly in some self-standing plastic frame. Monday-Friday, 10 a.m. to blah blah…SATURDAY: CLOSED. I gasped. I didn’t really. I had thought it strange that the little ID swiper outside of Olin had been a solid red as I entered, but the heavy door had seemed congenially propped open, so I went about my studies unaware.
Now it all came together. The red. The quiet. The empty. I was in the library. After hours.
So I decided to take serious advantage of this worldly opportunity. I checked Facebook—AND my e-mail—then read for another 20 pages, used some of the complementary hands-free disinfectant and went on my way back to the 40. Frankly, there wasn’t much else to do.
So maybe the library isn’t the best place to find yourself in after hours, authority-free, but other places would be.
I’m checking the propped-door status on these suckers next spring break; see you there…
5. The Science Museum:
In my hometown of Boston, the Girl Scouts got to explore this one Saturday during their elementary school experience. I’d give a thousand Thin Mints to run those deliciously scientific halls.
4. Jordan’s Furniture:
Funny how this fantasy changes from the little kid dream of running atop all the plush duvets, jumping on the lacy pillows and furrowing in the flannel sheets, to a different kind of co-ed experience after hours in a queen. But, yeah, Cabinet Hide-and-Seek is a game for all ages.
Who’s gonna stop me from sampling now, salesman!
2. Chuck E. Cheese:
I want desperately to go at any time, but I’m afraid I’m going to fling myself atop a hidden 6-year-old in the Ball Pit. Or vice versa.
I see it closed enough.