It was Monday, yes, it was. Or rather, ’twas, indeed, that’s right, a word of excellent preparation for 12th grade English, in whose daily work, essays, and other meanderings of writings will doom me for the next 4 years in college — in whose daily work, essays, and other meanderings of writings therein will, too, doom me for the next 80 years or so in life afterward. I went to the library on Monday.

But it was no ordinary “went”; it was not something along the lines of “walk out the door, hop in the car, drive to the library,” no it wasn’t. For this library was a new one (for me), and its location was undisclosed to me at that point I wanted to go to the library. Thankfully, resourceful online heroes such as Yahoo! Yellow Pages were there to guide the way — but even then, they couldn’t save you from the one thing that dooms most finders-of-new-locations: Being lost.

And, as you can probaby tell, I had befallen to this fate myself, not realizing the hidden-ness of the blasted library, dubbed as Alamoso Public Library. This library, clueless from most other people on the West Side, held a book of significant importance that no other library had. It was the main reason that I wanted to go to this library. That book was Crime and Punishment — indeed, a book of utmost importance, beware.

So anyway, Gonzalez was the street that I needed to find, unsure of whether it’s a main street with its very own — *gasp* — dedicated traffic light, or one of those blasted hard-to-find-unless-you-squint-and-get-in-a-collision neighborhood streets. As I looked left and right, while driving (oh yes, pure skill) for this street named after some Spanish legacy family (or was it Mexican?), I passed by a street that had a church that my mother often goes to (for the simple fact that it’s in Vietnamese, and not English)… I drove by its street unwittingly, thinking the library is just further ahead.

Little did I know that the library was next door (or rather, hiding behind like a sneaky bastage) to the church — and so I passed, still searching. It was like this for the next 4 miles or so.

At the end of the road, where the road met the barren plains and desert of the rest of southern New Mexico, I made a U-y (huzzah!).

To my dismay and anger, I found the library on the same street the church was located on… and it was called “Gonzalez,” but I didn’t see that until after I made my U-turn and drove back to it again.

And that is my story. Also, I need to mention the fact that due to my ineptitude of searching for locations and dangerous streets, I wasted a good hour or so finding the library. I arrived at the library at 6:40. The library closed at 6:00. I went home, and cried. And that is my story.