Libraries, Panties, and The Act of Being Too Tired to Give a Shit

Libraries can be strange places at night.

After a late-night event, I swing by my office to drop off some things.

I run into a girl in the elevator. Very intoxicated college student. Cute girl, but obviously headed for postgraduate study at the Betty Ford Clinic.

I ask her which floor she needs. She tells me she can't remember.

Girl's been sitting in the elevator for God knows how long. I pick the second floor (my floor), explaining that it has comfortable couches to sleep off hangovers.

She says thanks. On the way up, she tells me she's feeling hot and sleepy. Without saying another word, she lifts her skirt and takes off her underwear. She picks them up, puts them in her purse, and staggers out of the elevator doors.

She lets loose a rather loud fart on her way out.

As I left, I notice she'd passed out on a couch, spread-eagle and snoring.

Walk by...and she lets another loud fart rip.

I try not to look. Not looking.

Fuck, not laughing. Don't look. Don't laugh. Should call the police. Should tell a night supervisor.

Fuck, don't look. You're gonna laugh, dude.

I can't stop laughing and I'm home now, dammit.

Welcome to Oxford Fucking Ohio.