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Cornfields are also boring places to be on Saturday nights

Cornfields are also boring places to be on Saturday nights

Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do–even if that gotta involves spending a Saturday night in a library.

UPC hears you out.  We’re giving a voice to the voiceless, to those hushed by librarians on Saturday nights, when nobody should ever be working, really.

HEY GUY BEHIND THE DESK IN LEWIS BASEMENT!

So, how’d you get stuck with the Saturday night shift?

I requested it.  It’s peaceful.  I do homework.  I’m doing Chinese right now because I got tired of Chemistry.

You know, it’s kind of really depressing down here in Lewis.  Fine?  Lewis-slash-Fine?

I think it’s the Fine wing of Lewis.  The smiley face balloon makes it better.  But, I like the fact that it’s depressing because then the happiest place is your book, so you want to study.

Any Saturday night regulars?

Her!

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firestoneThere are a lot of things at Princeton that make students here feel warm and fuzzy. Late meal, for example. Free t-shirts. Professors who give out lots of A’s (grade inflation be damned) and a cell phone number with the casual “Call me if you have a question.” But despite the Princeton preoccupation with rating everything from courses to restaurants to campus sex hotspots (watch for the recent Prince survey for a comprehensive list), there exists no formal rating of the warmest, fuzziest parts of our lives: our libraries, each with a reputation as distinct as those of our beloved eating clubs.

Until we get a properly quantitative survey, you’ll just have to rely on random journalists’ views on the subject (The Press: telling Americans what to think since 1701!).  The Prince shared their opinion earlier this year; now, in honor of Reading Period, we at Press Club decided to give our own take.

So here goes.

Lewis Library

A library with a range of study environments, from the “tree house” to the Egg chairs (which, contrary to popular belief, have not yet been proven to cast grade-enhancing spells or whisper sweet, intellectual nothings in sitters’ ears, despite their exorbitant cost). Although, speaking of whispering — people are starting to take the “silent zone” thing really seriously in the tree house;  I’ve gotten dirty looks twice for merely sneezing in the place.

Marquand

Clearly the library in which to see and be seen. With those wall-to-wall windows and that nightly glow, Marquand is designed to lure unsuspecting students inside, like an exhibitionist moth to a flame. It is also, apparently, a breeding ground for such meaningful romantic (missed) connections as these:

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