Jasmine Grotte03-18-07Composition Section 11AthenaeumWalking past the stand of new novels was all it took to place me into a trance. With an ethereal air I glided across the store to the coffee shop, and told the cashier to get me the sweetest coffee, never looking from my book. I grabbed my beverage and sat down in the nearest chair. Not two chapters into the story a laud boisterous fellow and his equally effervescent friend took the table beside my own. I looked up from my book, annoyed, and noted the Guitar Playing for Dummies book in one hand and a copy of “Sports Illustrated” in the other boy’s hand. Torn from my oblivion, I stole a breath and observed the people around me. Smacked that that store was filled with those who did not, like me, uphold absolute reverence of bound pages, I sat aghast watching. I saw distinct groups of Barnes and Noblians, though you had to really look to notice most of them. A bookstore can be enjoyed, or frivolously used, by a large abundance of people. Even though, it should be limited to those who treasure the priceless essence of the athenaeum.            The callow youth was categorically unmistakable, consisting of the kids who came in to find a large assortment of magazines and an open coffee shop to gossip. Thinking themselves uniquely clever in their chic hangout, they showed it in their bombastic attitudes. They would gallivant through the shelves without a care to the noble art lovers who were propped against a wall in desperation to find solitude. They found no need to be bothered by the old people who clogged up the booth with their laptops and papers, and found it stupefying that others objected to the level of noise they produced. This was the group to which my table neighbors belonged.  

A preoccupied and concentrated few were the infamous, “get in and get out as fast as you can” group. This particular bevy contained mothers and fathers, seniors and teenagers, blondes and brunettes. Typically, they came through the door by way of the mall entrance with bags in their arms. Their blatant mentality was, “One last thing and I can go,” and quickly they walked over to the proper shelves and spent an average of 2 minutes finding the necessary book. They wait with a tapping foot at the counter while a hurried cashier rings them up and they exit as swiftly as they entered. I will admit, everyone is in a hurry once in a while, but these people have the look in their eyes of obligation. Buying a book should never be an obligation! I can not comprehend these people.  

It did not take long to settle my frantic eyes on a comforting assemblage of fellow readers. These people may come often or they may rarely escape the pressures of the outside world, but here they are happy. They enter with a haggard disposition that melts away into peace the moment the familiar smell of ink and paper permeates the atmosphere. Slowly they stroll down the aisles and touch many bindings. The subject doesn’t really matter to these people, they just love the stories that they contain. They will settle on a book or two eventually and go out in search of a plush chair or sofa. Oblivious to time, other literary connoisseurs have claimed all seats so they happily stand with their backs against a wall for an hour without moving. A compatriot of this group may or may not eventually buy a book to add to their collection of treasures, but it is rarely the book they just spent an hour soaking in, it is much more likely to be the book they absorbed last visit and could not stop thinking about. This group is liable to leave the oasis with a radiant smile on their face counting the miles until they are home so that they can continue their blissful adventure into the world of literature.  

Hearing a neighbor’s watch beep 5:00 I was yanked back into reality. My book stared back at me in mock disbelief that I put it down while I people watched. With a warm smile I retrieved my dear paperback and ignored the surrounding cacophony created by those who did not belong in a library. Sitting in my hard and uncomfortable chair, I read for another two hours.