A Rookie Mistake

For students at Reed, the library is like a second home. When class gets out in the afternoon, Reedies grab a quick bite to eat before a long night studying away in the quiet company of the stacks and the rest of the Reed student body. Not only does it provide a welcoming atmosphere for study, but it can aptly be described as the hotbed for social activity on campus. Everyone is there... if you're not, you're missing something.

I didn't start going to the library to work until this year. I always thought I could get by working in my room, but with the course load I had this past semester (and the one I'm ready to engage for the next few months), the library really is a necessity. I'm not the most seasoned veteran, but I feel as though I have solidified library protocol to a certain degree.

So when I left my house this evening (after explaining to an ASU friend that no the library was not a bar, it was actually a place of study), I had my scarf around my neck, all my books and necessary materials in hand, and I was on my way. I reached the library and gained access with my student ID card. Last year, I came to the library about ten times after 9pm (when the doors are no longer open). I forgot my ID card ten times. Rookie.

I shuffled up the stairs, taking them two at a time and moved over to the tables adjacent to the windows. It's calm, there's some fresh air, and high traffic of friends who can briefly take my mind off of Descartes, Kant and Aristotle. I found a nice table, threw down my books and rushed off to grab the e-reserve books I would need from the stacks. I had already made a fatal error, without even realizing it.

When I returned, I opened up my notebook, and turned to the first page of Descartes' Discourse on Method. Within five seconds I realized the catastrophic mistake I had made. In placing my stuff at this table, I failed to check my immediate airspace for smelly kids. Sitting directly across from me was an individual who is widely reputed to be the source of the foulest dose of B.O. at Reed College. Shit.

I had no idea if I had simply overlooked the fact that he was sitting there or whether he was absent when I first placed my stuff at this table. But it didn't fucking matter now. His odor was there, beginning to set up base camp on my stuff. In no time it would call my body home.

At this point, there's not a lot one can do. I could sit there and tough it out, wait for a stopping point, and move on when I finished my reading. Shit, this is Descartes. What I thought was 34 pages just became 44. I'm here for the long haul. At least an hour, maybe two. I could wait for him to get up and then quickly dive into the stacks, where the dusty floor would no doubt provide a welcome respite from his offensive smell.

Why didn't I just move? Well, I felt bad. I didn't want it to be apparent that his odor was the cause of my anxiety.

At 32 pages, I'd had it. I couldn't concentrate. Descartes was spewing something about the human heart, blood, aortas and ventricles. I was sitting there with my hand directly in front of my nose, trying to shield myself, if only for a moment. This guy smells awful! Rami told me that he was once moments away from vomiting when he sat down next to him one night. Fortunately, he was on his way out and escaped the dark halo.

I'm out now, writing this blog, searching for any lingering effects.

Rami walked by and laughed at me, and rightfully so. He had made a veteran decision in his library seating. Not only was he seated directly next to Ari, he also placed himself in a high traffic area of some of the best looking girls at Reed, stealing the occasional conversation with Brown Sugar. This kid has been playing the game for a while.

I can only cut my losses, study the game footage and hope that this doesn't happen again. I'll be in the league for a while and I can't afford to make these sorts of errors when philosophy and more importantly, my nose, is on the line.