“It was like walking through a library,” I mused. Two minutes earlier Gerald and I took a shortcut through a coconut grove of vacationers. We just finished our daily routine of clocking miles along the sandy seashore. Needing shade and a drink of cold water, we made a beeline from the beach to the nearest coconut grove. Under the shade of palm fronds, chair after chair of resort loungers were filled, facing the sea for an up close and personal oceanfront view. Except for one thing. Every chair occupied seemed to accommodate a reading enthusiast. Heads were bowed deep in thought with attention focused on Kindle Fires, paperback novels, cell phones, daily newspapers, and glossy magazines. Not a single person noticed us until I said, “Oh, that breeze feels nice.” Then one clearly annoyed woman tore herself from the book she was reading, threw me a stern look, pursed her lips, and practically raised her index finger to her lips. (Sshh) The message in that steely gaze commanded silence. At that exact moment the feeling hit me. “It’s like walking through a library.” Three steps later Gerald and I set foot on the smooth walkway leading to the spectacular outdoor pool where adults were laughing, children were splashing, and the air was filled with music and glee. We had exited the Quiet Zone.