Where people cling to light

In that I work at the library, I have many a story to tell. It can either be about the feelings regarding administrative initiatives or in reference to the huddled masses that pass through our doors.
Last night the mass of skewed nerve endings, questionable brain chemistry and physical disabilities all converged on my and my overtired and poorly trained coworkers in one untidy package. This patron is truly a collection of all that can go wrong and does; and he's not happy about it and will do his best to both make us aware and share in his state of affairs.
There is no way, and I mean no way, that I can convey his troubles in words, even pictures, it would have to be a movie. I'll combine Rainman, My Left Foot and George W. Bush. Add a little pinch of Bill O'Reilly and you have a small part of the picture.
This customer does not like to leave when we close. His pile of papers that he's endlessly been shuffling for the hours he's in the building, drop to the floor, or suddenly need to be collated and filed, yet it's nine o'clock and all the lights are out and the staff is surrounding him after repeated efforts by individuals requesting that he get his things together and just go. Eventually with threats and cajoling he does leave, it's both with relief and despair that the thing is done, a drama played out of just another day.