Stink Bomb

Argh! I'm at the library trying to study. Distractions everywhere. Whatever happened to the wonderfully stern librarians who could just give a noisy patron the evil eye and quite air would quickly return. In this formica hell, I'm surrounded by construction to the south, thanks to the never ending renovations at Lincoln Center, and the chaos of a high school to the west. 

As soon as the kids get out of school, they migrate over to the library, making all kinds of noise. About every five minutes, an utterly ineffective rotund guard comes by and tries to quiet and control them. All I hear is a staccato series of commands - "Put the cap on the soda. You're not suppose to have food or drink in here." "Be quiet." "Time to settle down." "No cell phones in here." It all falls on deaf ears. She's left to make circular rounds on the main floor and give the appearance of caring. 

But it's not just the kids. This one guy across from me had his cell phone vibrate about every 3 to 5 minutes - kid you not! Once or twice he even got up to walk to the lobby to finish his call. Why the frick are you at a library if someone needs to constantly call you? And what the heck is so damn important that you can't just turn your cell phone off for an hour? 

Then there was the old-but-trying-to-look-young woman across from me got out sections of a banana covertly from her bag. She tried to make her worn and wrinkled face look soft and angelic but her actions and dyed blonde dry hair showed her proclivity to convince others that she's younger and nicer than she really is. She left no longer than 30 minutes after her snack. Does she get off on the thrill of 'illegal' library dining 'cause most anyone could wait 30 minutes to eat. I do, however, have another example of why I will not dye my hair or use too much makeup once I'm 60 plus.

And now I'm taking a break from studying the fascinating and thrilling geologic time scale. I have to move my computer due to a mobile plume that just sat down beside me. This annoying Russian woman decided to take her vibrating cell phone out to the lobby. It took her a good 12 rings to even find the damn thing in her overstuffed purse. I noticed her return slightly by the peripheral blurry motion in my left eye but it was the STENCH that got my full attention.. She smelled like she just spent ten days in a European bar. Ugh. Had to move. Between this bubby, the gross guy at the opera, and several overly-perfumed retirees at the Booth Theater, I'm beginning to think Russians either can't smell themselves or just don't care that they are surrounded by a stinky cloud of toxic waste. Complacency from Chernobyl and Putin?

I bet those glasses-wearing, practical-shoed, cardigan-sweatered throwbacks to discipline would do something to help the normal-smelling patrons out.

I long for the librarians of yore ... sniffle, sniffle, gasp, gasp.