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Thursday, March 28
The Indiana Daily Student

Doin’ it all night long

For The Wired Issue, we thought we’d find the most wired students on campus. There was only one man for the job.

How badly do you want it?

If you’re like me and not currently “getting any,” the withdrawal is probably driving you insane. Nuts. Perhaps even – dare I say it - bonkers.

This primal desire for release is, in fact, quite like the great humpback whale of Bar Harbor, Maine. It’s wild, unruly, and yearning for the juicy kelp of gratification.
My whale is now deep within this ocean of deprivation. To be quite honest, at this point, I’d sell my little brother for a quickie. (Sorry Sean... you were always mom’s least favorite).

The fact is: I like it. I love it. I want some more of it.  

So, point me to the nearest bed... because I’m horny for sleep.

Like sex, sleep is an activity few IU students would claim to get enough of. Sleep deprivation has become a collegiate staple, as common as beer pong or ramen noodles.

Some caffeine-pumped crazies, in fact, stay up all night, not going to sleep until the sun awakens. Indeed, it’s the circle of life – just as the night owls are flocking back home, the early birds begin migrating back to campus.

In hopes of observing this bizarre, nocturnal migration, I decided to pull an all-nighter myself and observe the nightlife happenings of after-hours IU.

Meandering along the twisted, moonlit sidewalks of campus, I began bird-watching for the elusive owls. As I walked, the playlist which I had compiled earlier on my iPod – the “Red Bull” mix – blared. The lyrics of the songs eerily paralleled the events of that evening.

Insomniac (Green Day)

At 3 a.m., the latest I had been up since my first night in prison, I approached the McDonald’s at the Read dormitory. Outside, under the flourescent light of the golden arches, I saw an employee bagging trash.

Clad in a sleeveless t-shirt, his collection of decorative arm tattoos were fully exposed. One bicep featured a frightening picture of the Grim Reaper, the other, Jesus Christ. As he lifted the heavy bag, which drooped sadly – and ironically – under the weight of Happy Meals, his arm muscles flexed, making Jesus dance.

“I like to balance good and evil,” Israel Jimenez said, in reference to the tattoos. “I got them when I was 14.”

Jimenez, 26, works the late-night cleaning shift at McDonald’s from 1-7 a.m. The hours are late but fitting for Jimenez’s sleep habits.

“I suffer from insomnia,” Jimenez said. “I usually sleep only 3 to 4 hours ... so I work late to support my kids. One lives here, the other in Mexico.”

“I love them,” he said.

With that, he retuned to his work, the leaky trash bag leaving scattered drips of brown goo behind him.

All Night Long (Lionel Richie)

At 4:00 a.m., I began walking up the slanted street near Teter, following the faint sound of distant voices. As I trudged upward, the volume of voices got steadily louder, as if I were walking atop a paved, musical crescendo.

At the peak, gathered around benches, was a foursome of dorm-dwelling night owls: Liz Carey, Liz Umstead, Aimee Zborowski, and Peter Trausch.     

“We have a little group of us who stay up insanely late,” Zborowski said, “We mostly do nothing. Just talk, chill ... whatever.”

“I have 8 a.m. classes during the week,” Carey added, “But I’m always out this late.”
While the girls are all self-proclaimed “sleep anorexics,” Trausch, the lone male, often performs a binge-purge cycle.

“Last week, I didn’t sleep at all for five days,” Trausch said, “I spent, like, 30 hours sleeping on the weekend though.”

It seems implausible – almost inhuman – and upon hearing it, I arched my eyebrows skeptically. But his friends reaffirmed his statement.

“No seriously,” Umstead said. “He’s crazy.”

In The Still of the Night (Fred Parris)

At 5 a.m., in the main library, tables were littered with thick textbooks and Polar Pops – the quintessential accessories for all chemistry majors.

In the lobby, accompanied by such a beverage, was 25-year-old Michael Wartenbe, who was preparing for an upcoming class discussion.

“I enjoy working late,” Wartenbe said. “There is a weird camaraderie of people here at night. You can go outside, have a cigarette, and share bizarre conversations with strangers.”

When I finally left the library at 6 a.m., even the strangers had gone to bed. As I walked home, through the Arboretum, it was practically silent. The paths were empty – devoid of the usual clamor of Ugg Boots and Pumas.

And suddenly, embracing the essence of nocturnal randomness, I stopped to smoke a cigarette under a tree. With my back against the wet grass, I gazed up at the stars, breathing in the peaceful toxins of smoke and silence.

And, of course, I thought about the dancing Jesus.

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