Steal This Book!

I spent the day at the library yesterday. It is an amazing place; giant and marble and beautiful, with three floors that I know of, various wings, a parking garage, a café, bookstore, and even a dungeon! Just kidding, there's no dungeon. Yet. The tables have lamps on them, it smells like books, and everything is always orderly. But it was even more amazing than that:

First of all, I got to the library at about 5 minutes til opening. To my surprise, there was a line. A huge line. Of people who wanted to go to the LIBRARY. As is my custom, I enveloped each and every person who was waiting in a long, almost uncomfortably so (for them) hug and gave them a gentle kiss on the cheek. God bless you, library liner-uppers. You just can’t wait to get to those books, can you?

Second of all, the purpose of the library is amazing. It is a place that just wants to give you books. For free. Asking for nothing in return except that maybe you return them after a couple of weeks (if you feel like it, they say gently. If not, you can renew them. That’s okay with us.). And what’s more, they will give you videos, CDs, even computer games and free printouts of articles from the December 29, 1980 issue of the New York Times. They have, like, ten microfiche machines that any bozo can use, and make all the printouts of weird newspaper things that they want. You can literally sit there and print a coupon for $3.00 off of any dinner entrée from The Spaghetti Warehouse that expired in 1992 ALL DAY LONG. Those library people will never be impatient with you the way the baristas at Starbucks are when you ask them repeatedly if they’re sure they put decaf in your cup. They always say “yes” at Starbuck’s but sometimes they look guilty, like they’re not sure. And sometimes the Starbucks people will tell you that you look exactly like someone who wrote a quite popular book, and then you’ll go home and look that author up on the internet, and discover that the author looks like an old, wrinkled lady from Cape Cod. They would never do that at the library. They keep their author/person comparisons private.

Third, the library is like the better version of your friends. Do you know why? Because if the library doesn’t have something, they will order it. And they will send it to wherever it’s convenient for you to pick it up. Say you want a book on how ethnic dress among Africans is a signifier of racial and cultural confidence, even though you think the book will probably end up being a stupid and useless waste of time and not at all help you with your assignment (not that I would ever need such a stupid, ridiculous book, it’s just an example). Well, if the library does not carry that book, you just have to ASK THEM, and they will be all, “Hey, I can totally get that for you. Will Tuesday be too late?” Try that at Barnes and Noble. They will be like, “Yeah, we don’t have it. I guess I can look to see if they have it at Polaris and then you can pick it up there.” Who wants to drive out to Polaris, especially when they’re standing at the cozy Barnes and Noble at Lennox Center drinking their Starbucks which has probably been cruelly spiked with caffeine by an uncaring barista who thinks you look like an old lady from Cape Cod? But, at the library, they will practically drive the thing out to your house, read it to you, tab the relevant pages and tuck you into bed.

Also: the people at the library are really nice! And not one of them has a tip jar out on their desk like the fuckers do at the Starbucks drive through. (Since when do we tip drive through people, by the way? Am I going to have to start tipping the register person at Meijer for putting my spaghetti and pickles in a bag instead of throwing them at my face?) The library people are quiet, and smart, and totally know where all the books are, even if you just give them the first three digits of the Dewey Decimal System. And you know what else? Those library people reshelf books like maniacs. Whenever I need a book, I just go to the clearly-labeled shelf, and, whoomp, there it is. The book isn’t sitting out for people to trip on, like the weights are at my gym, it’s not missing, like the large size boxes of Frosted Flakes that are on sale always are at Meijer, it’s just sitting there, smiling sweetly and cooing, “Please borrow me!” from its perch on the shelf. And then, if I look at the book, and it’s not exactly what I want, there will be a soothing library person standing there, saying, “Don’t trouble yourself, pretty and young-looking lady, let me reshelf that for you. For it’s such a long walk, and you are so smart and weary. Enjoy your day.”