| Love is for the suckers. One after the other, boy girl, boy girl. Strangers line up at the Computer Center. A big, seemingly nice guy, a trifle schlubby, but certainly good enough for the lank haired but sweet girl with thick glasses, I seat them toegther. Then there is the guy who at first glance seems gross, but has a glimmer of snarky intellect, what to do with him? I dare not seat him next to the slouched over girl with the institutional hair-cut. He will have to go on the other side of Ms. Glasses. CC romances are down since the move, I remember the days when you could barely breath because of the funk of hormones mixed with the pong of lowered expectations. The air was thick with it. Patrons coupled and uncoupled like oxygen atoms in a water molecule. My flesh crawls just thinking of it. It crawls up to the top of my head and then back down again, desperately looking for a way out. Really not much going on, a couple of coughers... Man am I not looking forward to Wintertime in the Access Center. Somedays it was like a
TB ward. The regulars would come in and infect the other regulars and they in turn would infect the innocent, legitimate users. Visualize this: A Regular porn-chat room user sneezes a wad of snot into his hands, then calmly returns to using the mouse and keyboard without wiping his hands on anything. Now repeat that scene about 50 times in one session. I keep a big bottle of that obsessive/compulsive hand cleaner in the desk during the season. The public is sadly on it's own, I've never seen the cleaning ladies wipe a keyboard down, not once. Bleah.(Shudder) |
