"Orange Crush" b/w "Who's Schoolin' Who?"

I'm a bit verklempt about the "end" of The Gates, which has been my companion—my crush—this past fortnight . . . though of course they're still up, many of them, as I saw this morning from my perch on the crosstown bus. I was headed to the New York Society Library, one of those grand, soul-boosting places that make you say, with a smile, "Only in New York, kids—only in New York." And then somebody slaps you. And steps on your foot. And takes your wallet.

The NYSL—I call it the "nissle," as opposed to the "nipple," or New York Public Library, the branches of which seem to be open only every other Wednesday from 3 to 3:45—a.m.!—is my favorite place for reading and writing. And spacing out. What was that?

Thinking about this bit of posh in my life (the NYSL's sweeping staircase always conjures up a similar s.c. from my middle school days) brings me to Curtis Sittenfeld's novel Prep, which I recently read and reviewed. In the first paragraph, I mentioned some fictional prep schools. Shortly after the piece appeared, other literary tie-and-blazer locales came to mind. There's Rushmore, from everyone's favorite Wes Anderson film; St. Benedict's Academy, in Ethan Canin's solid novella The Palace Thief (and in the film version, The Emperor's Club); and Welton, from the film Dead Poets Society. Dizzyheads are encouraged to send me the names of other nonexistent prep schools! Let's put together the most comprehensive list we can!

[In the distance, the entire Dizzies readership can be heard to groan.]