You are the Champion, My Friend

Phrases like “Perfect Storm” came to mind as the man, who probably wanted to ask a question at some point in the future, walked up to the desk. He could not ask his question yet, though, since he was on his cell phone. So he parked himself directly in front of me and continued his conversation. He was kind of loud. I’ll give people a minute before I lower the Shush-Axe, hoping that they will miraculously become a different person, specifically one who has a jot of manners. I started counting off Mississippis to myself, deciding that he would get twelve. Right around 5 Mississippi, he put his bag on the desk and began rummaging around. He came up with a grocery store croissant, one of those giant, greasy numbers that would probably make any French person angry or possibly violent. He took a large bite and continued speaking loudly as he chewed.

I know times have changed, what with the ubiquity of cell phones and the disappearance of the "library voice," but this was a little too much. I interrupted his important conversation and gave him the bum’s rush. A fairly polite bum’s rush, but a definite bum’s rush. Offended, he told the person on the other end to wait a sec, that the guy in the library was freaking out on him, gathered his things and stalked off.