I walked into Laman with a Big Gulp soda and a chili dog bigger than my head. I sat them down on a table across from the study rooms, and the tiniest piece of chili rolled onto some papers that I didn’t notice before. Hoping I didn’t ruin anything important, I took a look at the document. Laman had put a new food policy in place. No outside food is allowed, and you have to eat the food from the café in the upstairs rotunda. I felt a wave of guilt but, as to stop myself from panicking as usual, I rode across it on a surfboard of gentle inquiry. I slowly, calmly and carefully approached the circulation desk.
The librarian said, “I’m sorry. Did you just let out a yelp?”
I said, “No, I’m not freaking out. Am I in trouble? I brought food from outside the safe zone.”
She said, “It’s okay. It’s a fairly new policy.”
I sneaked back out to my car and sucked down that chili dog quicker than you can say “library behavioral code violation.” Truth be told, I could not sleep at night if I knowingly broke the rules. I don’t know how I’m going to confess to the North Little Rock chapter of the Chili Dog Society that I dropped some delicious ground beef. Chili dogs are to be cherished and handled with care. Corndogs, on the other hand, are a disgrace to the –dog world. That’s right, I said it. I don’t even care if their inventor rises from the dead, out of the trash bag he’s buried in, and chases me down the street. He brought shame to a once-proud, junk food-based community.
I re-entered the library, doing my best to pretend like the incident did not occur. Though I did sweat a lot. I reached the end of the desk where they keep the event calendars. The design for December looked lovely. But, to my horror, the events on the calendar where sparser than that time I tried to grow a mustache! But I took a deep breath, and prepared to ask the librarian why.
The librarian said, “I’m sorry. Did you just let out another yelp?”
“I’m just not with it today. So, why are there fewer programs this month?”
“People tend to travel a lot during the holidays so we don’t have as many events,” she said.
“True. Come to think of it, I will be gone for two weeks, driving an RV cross-country with my buddy, Mosquito Mike. We’re going to see every chili canning facility in America,” I said. “There’s one in Nebraska where they have a giant model of a human digestive tract where you can walk around and pretend to be chili. Really, the taste of it on your tongue is only ten percent of the experience.”
“I hope you have a fun trip,” she said.
I thanked her and left the library, where there’s always something going on and something to learn.