The Graveyard Shift: Now with exciting new perks!

..which include a view of LA's 20-something visible stars when most of the city decides to finally shut-down.

There's something to be said for the graveyard shifts of university jobs. In my sophomore year at UMD, it was the tranquility of the Hagerstown residence hall lobby as I worked at the front desk in the wee hours of the morn (broken only by the occasion stumbling-about of a sloshed student). Now at USC, the tranquility continues given my new job as a Graveyard Student Navigation Assistant in Leavey Library (read: library research help).

After about 4 1/2 hours sitting behind the desk - with the occasional meandering about and re-shelving of books - I sidled outside for my much-needed and university-policy-required "lunch" break. Luckily, somone (who I'm sure remembered the joys of being a student him or herself) decided the best place for the 24/7 coffee shop would be right next-door to the library, and this is exactly where I found myself upon clocking out. And, after buying a large cuppa joe and a still-smoking microwave pizza, I wandered back outside into the chilly 56 F California night and looked for somewhere to sit down. Which is, of course, so very difficult at such a busy hour.

One of the wonderful things about any campus at 4:30am on a Monday morning is the complete lack of students. Most are asleep, with the few awake ones struggling to remain in said state as they huddled in library alcoves. Outside, though, the only sound you'll hear is the soft hiss of the lawn sprinklers, intermittent with the distant rumble of sparse traffic on the roads just beyond the university.

Upon discovering this, I decided to take full-advantage of it during my half hour not behind a desk. I parked myself on the edge of the long, modern eternity-pool-like fountain outside of the library, setting up my kip on the concrete surface next to me. The expanse of fountain water behind my back was still, save for the tiny ripples that glided away from the overflow at the edge. The light from a pole along the sidewalk several feet away flickered as moths fluttered about, attempting to rid themselves of the coalescing morning-dew. My hired narrator scratched his chin and shut his eyes as he struggled to conjure more descriptive imagery for later blog posts. Unaware of his chagrin, I remarked about how great writers could probably fill entire novels as they described this type of scene, and then deservedly caught his cold stare as I turned to him - my relaxed and meditative smile faltering slightly.

Ruffled narrators aside, I could imagine no other time or place to dine on microwavable pizza and "quality" Starbucks coffee. If every "lunch" break meant enjoying the reverence of a peaceful, predawn morning, I thought dreamily (ignoring my now irritable narrator, who mumbled something along the lines of "my union" and "butternut squash"), then I think I was going to enjoy working the graveyard shift at Leavey Library.