I've been going to the main San Francisco Public Library to read up on the uses and pricing of financial derivatives. (The useful stuff seems to be Reference-only.) One day after lunch, I put my head down on my book for a nap, and was woken by someone new at the table talking loudly. When I looked up, I saw a middle-aged white woman talking to someone apparently about twenty feet over my left shoulder. But when I looked in that direction, I could not discern to whom she might be talking. Then, however, she went to work on what appeared to be her problem set on basic AC circuits, muttering to herself only occasionally. This didn't bother me for a long time, but, eventually, I decided to seek someplace quieter. I was initially delighted to find an individual desk at a sunny window overlooking Civic Center plaza, but quickly noticed that the somewhat rotund, long-haired white man at the other desk in the alcove was distinctly stinky. (I couldn't make out what he was reading.) This constant sensory perception was perhaps more easily managed by nervous system facilitation than the randomly interjected commentary at my previous location, but it was still distracting. I reflected, though, that he had to put up with a non-smelly, short-haired, skinny white guy reading about financial derivatives, a comparably obnoxious stereotype.
From my childhood in Hawaii onward, I recall loving going to the public library, without ever dreading running into mentally ill or homeless people. I would assume, however, that the library staff take more care in ejecting all adults without children from the children's room.
