I just got back from a little unplanned trip to Barnes & Noble. Normally it’s a place that I enjoy just hanging at. I know that makes me sound like a total idiot… yes, I like to just hang at the bookstore. I rarely buy anything, but always come away with a list of subjects I want to research. It’s sort of just like an inspirational source for me. I will very often come straight home and hop online to delve into a list of search terms that caught my eye while skimming through the rows and rows of books.

Anyway, lets get back to tonight’s adventure. I was walking slowly through some of the sections that usually interest me. American History, Biographies, New Fiction… I was just looking over the shelves waiting for something to jump out at me. Next I was ready to start looking at some of the ‘promo’ tables. You know those tables that are piled with 7 or 8 layers of books. Some are 50% off, some are “teen reading”, and still others might be “staff favorites”. They are usually just sets of books from several sections that have some running theme. Well in the store that I frequent, there is one particular table that happens to interest me very often. I don’t know why it’s always that one table. Every time I go there it carries a different theme. I’ve purchased both “Devil in the White City” and “Wobegon Boy” from this table… they are like polar opposites of the literary world, but they were both found on that table at different times in my life. I guess you could say that it’s become my favorite part in that store.

So I was heading for my table to see what treasures it held. On my approach it was clear that all was not normal. There was folders and notebook paper strewn about, pens and a backpack in the center, and a chair pulled up to one side. Now understand that this was a table with a book display covering the entire horizontal surface. A person had setup their own little workspace ON TOP of all the books. The very books that I wanted to look at. This person seemed to believe that she had the right to use this area as if it were her own little office or homework area.

The chair was empty when I arrived, which annoyed me even more. I made the assumption that this was some college kid to stupid to understand that they didn’t own the world, so I hung around to confirm my beliefs. NO It was a middle aged woman! So… I was pretty annoyed. She was old enough to know better. She just sat down and started writing then digging through her backpack as if she was sitting on her living room floor.

What an inconsiderate little shit! She took the opportunity for other patrons of this store to even see the merchandise on display. It was really as if I had gone into the grocery store and laid down in cheese freezer area. I get warm, so when I need to cool down I will just lay on top of all the products to use this as my own personal cool-down station.

So I’m presented with two problems. The first, of course, is just an affront to my basic sense of decency and how-to-act-in-public-for-grown-ups. And the other was that I really wanted to look at the books displayed on this table. I wanted her to move.

Since I had nowhere to be, and just felt like taking on a little project… I decided to make this woman get her damned stuff off the display table. (okay, so I know I could have just gone to an employee to ask her to move… but I wanted to try something more interesting. call it an experiment with the human condition)

My first course of action was to just stand close to her… close enough to be uncomfortable and see if that would make her move. I pretended that I was looking at the books that could be seen through her little mess. She looked up at me, and I pretended not to notice. I flipped through some pages, and even moved one of her notebooks to see what was under it. She snatched it up and put it in her bag. I thought I was making headway. but then she gave out an annoyed cough and planted herself back on the chair. I got a little closer, but all I got was another throat-clear.

It was pretty clear that this woman wasn’t going to be bothered with any mere space-bubble invasion. I was going need to pull out the big guns. And that I did….

I stood right next to her and let out a silent, but quite deadly, fart. That was the ticket my friends… in a little under a minute after my gass pass she was cleaned up and outa there. Normally I would feel regret for sinking to a new low… but this time I was just satisfied with the success of my experiment. I happily wiped the stink-tears from my eyes and browsed my favorite book table in peace.

There wasn’t really anything interesting on the table this trip…