One night I was out late looking for a good time. I saw a few clubs, but I knew they didn't have what I needed. I needed a buzz, something to get my mind racing. I saw this shady-looking character on a streetcorner, so I went up to him and asked, "Hey, you got anything to get me high as a kite?" He looked at me, and I knew he could see my dilated pupils, and the sweat pouring off my forehead. He opened his trenchcoat and said, "Yeah, I got something. I got a first edition of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, a nickel a page." My jaw dropped to the curb and drool rolled out of my mouth. I pulled a wad of bills from my pocket and reached for the book.
He slapped my hand away and closed his coat, "Hey, dude, that's just for show. I had to make sure you were cool." "I'm cool, I'm cool," I said, "Please, I've been stuck in front of the TV watching American Idol with my girl all night. I need something to pick me up." He smiled at me and said, "All right. Since you're a paying customer, and you seem desperate enough, I'll tell you a little secret. There's a little all-night library about a block from here. My man Big J runs it. He's got everything you want, Science, history, the literary giants. You go there and you'll get so pumped you'll forget your own name. You'll be walking the streets telling people to call you Ishmael."
I went to the all-night library and went on a bender. I woke up the next afternoon lying face-down in a gutter, with thoughts of what the eyes of Dr. TJ Eckleburg meant running through my head.