My footsteps on the brick are brisk and quiet as I march onward past the daffodils, past the hammocks, to one of my many spots. On my way, I pass others, chatting and giggling with friends, relieved after their hard day of work. I pass people headed to their beds, to call their mothers and watch TikTok until their eyes can’t stay open anymore. Occasionally, I pass a friend or a friend of a friend. How’s your evening? Headed to bed? Done with your work? Most of the time, I dread what lies ahead, which is part of the reason I’ve spent the hours since dinner doing any miscellaneous task or talking to anyone I can find.
As a child, I stayed up late reading. Sitting in my top bunk, above my snoring sister, I would quietly reach over the bars, grab my book from the basket and turn on my cloud-shaped lamp. I would read to the point of exhaustion. I used to get caught reading when I was supposed to be asleep. One time, my babysitter confiscated my lamp, grabbing a screwdriver and furiously taking it out of the wall, forcing me to lay down and close my eyes. My parents got worried so they brought me to a “sleep doctor,” who attached sensors to my temples and told me to look at a computer. When I had a thought, a little hot air balloon on the screen would sink, and when my mind went blank it would rise. I never got my hot air balloon to rise very high.
Ellison Baker ‘27, my current college roommate, asks me, Where are you going to go this time? after I tell her I’m not going to bed just yet. I have a few favorite spots that I rotate between. I go to Union when I want a snack or when I want to act like it’s the ‘90s and I’m in a coming-of-age movie. The warm lights are comforting, for a while at least, and the blue furniture and brick remind me of photos I have seen of Davidson from when my parents were students here. After a few hours, the lights make the walls too yellow and I start to feel dirty.
Then there’s the Hurt Hub. I only go during finals season now. It’s a pretty great place to work, but sometimes the lights can be blinding. The smells of plastic, cleaner and a hint of Celsius are almost nauseating unless I am in the right mindset. I go to Wall when I need to “lock in.” The lights are slightly too cool and the green and orange furniture is slightly off-putting. But if you can find a study room in Wall, you’re set for the night. The dark green walls engulf me, sending me into a haze of chemicals and experiments. I go to the Chidsey Lobby (“Chobby”) when I’m too tired to walk anywhere else. I sit on an armchair, trying to hide myself from the gusts of cold wind that fill the space whenever another person comes to go to bed. Sometimes, Chobby is filled with people and the smell of food cooking on the stove or in the oven. Sometimes, it’s a ghost town. Lastly, I go to Libs when I want to be surrounded by books. Here is where I truly feel like a student. There are two options in Libs for me: First Libs is the place I go when I want to get work done but need some company while doing it. Second Libs is the place I go when I want to focus on my work, with the occasional trip downstairs to the vending machine.
Even if I begin my night by working with a partner, I eventually out-stay them, and they retreat to their slumber. I am left to my lonesome, to my own mind. While the whole world sleeps, I struggle on, writing papers and studying for tests. Recently, I stayed in Union until 3 a.m., walked back to my dorm and realized that my key to get into the building was actually sitting on my bed. I stood for a minute at the glass door, waiting for someone to walk by so I could knock, begging them to let me in. After a while, the automatic lights turned off and I was left stranded. That’s when the phone calls began. The Davidson Police Department picked up. As I stood by the door, waiting for the police to walk around the corner, I sank in shame.
But being up late isn’t always lonely because I’m not always alone. The few of us that stay up late see each other and smile, a moment of mutual understanding.
For some, we stay up late out of necessity. We procrastinate important tasks until it comes down to the last minute. We focus better at night anyway so, naturally, night hours count as productive time. For others, the night is when we feel like we get true free time. There are no obligations, no people to talk to, no questions to answer. For some, staying up late is needed if we want to participate in the entertaining daytime activities Davidson offers. Those of us
who have busy social schedules leave little time during the day to study productively. For me, it is a combination of all these reasons plus the companionship of other late-night workers. There is a sense of camaraderie when the clock strikes midnight and we all stay. My conversations about the Honor Code, politics, eating houses and future plans extend into the early hours of the morning.
For us night owls, staying up is a way to make time for ourselves, for our own thoughts and feelings. It’s a time when we can be our true selves without the eyes of the rest of the world on us. It’s time to be immersed in our own minds.
When my time has come, my footsteps on the brick are brisk and quiet as I march to my pillow. The familiar hum of a generator and Orion’s Belt overhead accompany me. Each building, each dorm, each window is dark, their inhabitants dreaming until the sun rises. But without fail, there is always at least one window that glows with orange light, another person caught up in their own little reality.
Charlotte Frampton ‘27 is an English major from Denver, CO and can be reached for comment at