Harvard can be a dorky place
My supply of books to read at the gym is completely depleted, and today I had to do without. It was pretty unpleasant, so, afterwards, I finally got up the courage to ascend the imposing granite steps and enter the forbidden castle that is Widener Library.
"Umm...do you all have...like...fiction books?" My little voice echoes in the massive dome above me.
"Feection?" the man at the desk says in a haughty French accent. "Do you have a particular title een mind?"
"Um...not really. I just want...a book. You know, to read. Like, for fun."
"Oh. I see. What language do you look for? Latin? Freench? Eenglish?"
What the heck? Do I look like I enjoy reading in other languages for fun? Do I look like I'm even literate in other languages? Is it such a far-fetched idea that I might want to read something...I don't know...non-academic? "Umm...never mind. I don't need a book after all." And I ran for my life.
Never again.
"Umm...do you all have...like...fiction books?" My little voice echoes in the massive dome above me.
"Feection?" the man at the desk says in a haughty French accent. "Do you have a particular title een mind?"
"Um...not really. I just want...a book. You know, to read. Like, for fun."
"Oh. I see. What language do you look for? Latin? Freench? Eenglish?"
What the heck? Do I look like I enjoy reading in other languages for fun? Do I look like I'm even literate in other languages? Is it such a far-fetched idea that I might want to read something...I don't know...non-academic? "Umm...never mind. I don't need a book after all." And I ran for my life.
Never again.