The Library

Some of you know that one of my favorite hobbies / games I like to play is Geocaching. Furthermore, I’ve hidden a few geocaches in the area, therefore, a cache-owner (CO) One of your responsibilities is to regularly maintenance your hides. In fact, there’s an unseen algorithm that has a “cache health score”.

Recently, I traveled out to my lone library geocache which triggered my memory about a different library I visited many years ago …

Sin City, USA

Before COVID-19, I had a bro that would visit Las Vegas yearly. He would invite me regularly and for the most part I would accept, and in the year of this particular story was no exception.

And the invite would go out to his other bros as well. Those that accepted were part of a crew that meant at least one excursion to a strip club or gentlemen’s club. I always dreaded it.

WHY, you ask?

Why would a red-blooded, tried-and-true, dyed-in-wool, heterosexual man not want to visit a place of ill-repute? A place with scantily clad young women, dancing and writhing to loud music, with flashing lights, and leather furniture as men give away dollars like candy on Halloween Night?

I know that this is all a facade. That it’s just wasted money on a fleeting experience of feigned sexual encounter.

Oh, and just like any business establishment on the Las Vegas Strip, all the prices are higher than anywhere else.

So we searched for strip clubs off of the strip. This strip club was definitely off-off-OFF strip.

The Library

I forgot my library card at home in Seattle. This wouldn’t be an issue as a debit card, or credit card would allow me entry. We assumed it would be quiet by virtue of road construction leading up and around the strip club. Once we were inside The Library, it was abundantly clear we were the only patrons so far of the night.

The four of us had run-of-the-house, per se. I prefer blondes so my eyes started scanning for one. I mentally sighed, This is gonna be an expensive night.

The librarians were beautiful under the lights, make up, perfume, and my mind’s eye. My librarian was wearing a fragrance that was very pleasing. After the 2-drink minimum (more like shots), and lap dance songs, I became intoxicated with that perfume. I wouldn’t forget it anytime soon.

I surveyed the scene from over the shoulder of my librarian performing a lap dance: the sirens of sin city were entertaining the crew while we gleefully gave them our money.

Of all the libraries I’ve visited in the world, this was my favorite.

All good times must end, yeah? Mercifully, our night ended with our collective wallets emptied. I retrieved my credit-card-used-as-a-library-card, checked out and clamored back into the rental vehicle with a Cheshire grin.

At least one library isn’t boring.

‘los; out.