My eyes popped open at 6:52 a.m. last Saturday morning. I’d like to say it was the bright potential of the new day calling to me, but in fact it was my friend in London, who had a habit of calling at strange hours even when we lived in the same time zone. Now that she’s moved five hours ahead, it’s only gotten worse. After a short and fairly incoherent conversation, I hung up, now wide awake despite the fact that it was shortly after seven and I had gone to sleep not four hours before.
I saw this as a unique opportunity. For years, I’ve been one of those students who does all her best work after midnight and bonds with friends over PAC lab all-nighters. But this is soon to come to an end for me. I graduate in five weeks. Five weeks until I become a real adult with a job that will probably involve getting up in the morning and sacrificing my late-night dating show habit.
For students, a nocturnal lifestyle is perfectly acceptable, if not expected. The introduction of 8:30 a.m. classes was a cause for outrage. We have an entire facebook group dedicated to denying the existence of 7 a.m. Students simply have no use for such an hour. But this is when most normal people start their day. On this Saturday morning, I decided to get some practice.
My immediate quest was for caffeine. Since Pi wasn’t open, I decided to head down to Main Street to feed my addiction.
The street outside my house was quiet. Only remnants of a very fun night remained: a few beer cans in my neighbors’ yard, a scarf, and a plastic pirate sword.
Inside Javapolooza, things felt more normal. A woman read the paper and nibbled at a bagel. Two men were holding an important-sounding conversation over official-looking documents. A student was having breakfast with his visiting parents who obviously dragged him out of bed against his will. I settled down with my coffee and the crossword puzzle. I played it cool, like I got coffee and did the crossword every morning. And no one suspected otherwise.
After I finished, I headed back to campus feeling accomplished. It wasn’t even 9 a.m. and I had already had breakfast and completed half a crossword. I made use of my productive inspiration and headed to the gym only to find out it doesn’t open until eleven. There was no food to be had on campus yet, so a second breakfast was out of the question. Even the library was closed. By giving us no reason to wake up in the morning, it seems that Wesleyan almost supports our late night debauchery.
Feeling defeated I headed back to my house, still quiet and heavy with sleep. I briefly considered pouncing on one of my housemates to seek entertainment, but ultimately decided that they probably wouldn’t be too keen on hanging out with me before, say, noon. So I settled into the common room and turned on MTV. Its mindlessness was soothing and the couch was warm and comfortable. Just as I was drifting off to sleep I reminded myself that this lazy student behavior wasn’t my fault. I had tried to be productive and was held back. Laziness was perfectly acceptable. At least for the next five weeks.
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