Hello, there, friends. Let me tell you about this day. A wonderful, glorious day, friends, because food and drinks were legal in this library. I know, I know. I can hardly believe it myself.
There are not many days when so many people are allowed to openly break the rules, but two days out of the year the Bea allows a reception to take place in her castle. I prefer to call this event an exclusive ball, where for a few hours everyone wears fine clothing and eats and drinks, laughing and leaning dangerously close to the computers and wooden tables.
Last time this event took place, I wasn’t here to witness it, but someone spilled their drink next to a computer, surely eliciting shock from the crowd. I would think that the Bea would never allow such hooligans in her castle again. But, likely wielding to some sort of political pressure, she has allowed it once more, today.
This morning, the Bea, wearing her finest double-breasted suit, ushered in the caterers, waving her hands about and arranging and rearranging some fresh flowers. She bent over (as I winced — could she get back up again?) as she picked up little paper shreddings from the floor. She watered the plants (again, she just did that the other day), and she kept warning patrons that the castle would be closing soon in preparation for the semi-annual ball.
I decided to tread lightly and not raise any fuss. I quietly helped the Bea sort her mail, and I even took extra time straightening out the chairs in the castle and lining up keyboards. I paused for a moment to admire my work.
Now friends, even I, the drone, was allowed to don some fine clothing and partake in eating and drinking legally in the library. And for an hour, I forgot all about my responsibilities as a drone, and I drank a few non-alcoholic drinks (the only kind available), loaded my plate with questionable snacks, and carefully mingled, avoiding only the avoidable [people], forgetting about books and information, and loving every minute. The only thing that could’ve made it better was some of the hard stuff, you know, scotch. Or whatever. Wine coolers, I don’t care.
Though I was loving this time, I noticed some of my friends being awfully careless with their drinks. Once or twice, I saw a glass nearly spill, but someone would rescue it just in time. Tsk, tsk, friends. Some of you were sitting on the tables. Yes, bums on the tables. Blasphemy!
Just when I thought the food situation was under control, a fellow friend rounded the corner and lost control of her plate, spilling it onto the floor and onto the very table at which the Bea sat. I gasped and watched as the friend tried to pick up the pieces. The Bea showed a measured response, not appearing off-put by the situation, but I could tell her mind was racing. I just know it, friends. This castle was so out of control.
Here I am, though, back to being a drone in this quiet library. The last person just left. There are some crumbs on the floor, some fresh flowers, but other than those, no evidence that any fun was had in this castle.
