In the process of attempting to study Monday night, I discovered the sport to beat all sports.
This sport takes speed, skill and all the cunning you can muster. Deception is necessary and losing is not an option.
It is called library hopping. It sounds lame, but once you play you will understand what it takes to be one of the elite.
As I walked up the steps of Powell Library on Monday with my laptop in one hand and my rock ‘n’ roll history book in the other, I heard 11 tolls of the bell and immediately watched as mass hordes of students were kicked out of the second floor and stampeded into the main study hall.
What followed was the most hectic scramble of bodies I’ve seen since they had taquitos in the dining hall.
There were students patrolling the aisles looking for empty chairs like lions stalking antelope. People were diving into cubicles as if every empty chair had a wad of cash stashed underneath. You’d think half the people there were on the basketball team the way they were boxing out.
For one very short second, I thought I had myself a coveted couch spot and took half a step before I realized about 15 people were beating me to it. I had no chance.
However, this was my first time playing. Nobody’s great right away. I had just gotten beat by a bunch of library veterans and I was a green rookie just called up to the bigs.
I thought the clock had expired and I was just outta luck, but I was wrong again. This was only the beginning.
After walking out of Powell dejectedly with a few others, I decided to go another round. This time the stakes were higher. We were headed for the law library.
We found a mid-sized room with comfortable chairs and wireless Internet. There was only one student there. Almost too good to be true. Compared with the mass hysteria that was Powell, this was looking pretty satisfactory.
I sat down and plugged in some Chuck Berry. We thought we had beaten the system.
Wrong.
After about 45 minutes of studying up on The Beach Boys and Bob Dylan, I saw a middle-aged CSO stroll into the room. If I had ever seen a smirk, this was it. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything and just kept walking.
Maybe it was the stank eye I shot him that made him keep walking. Whatever it was, it didn’t work.
This time he came from the side entrance – a strategic move none of us saw coming.
He asked if we were law students. We weren’t. I thought about saying yes, but I don’t look my age even when I don’t shave, and passing as a grad student wasn’t going to happen. The other guy in the room, who looked about 17, was a law student and had an ID to prove it.
Maybe our page-turning and paper-shuffling were too noisy. Maybe our collective intellect just wasn’t enough to merit us being there. Or maybe we just smelled bad, I’ll never know.
He told us we had to leave. He pointed to the sign: “This room is for use only by UCLA law students and faculty.” Evidently we didn’t game-plan for trickeration. We were 0-2.
Heading back home after taking a trip around campus that would wear out Lewis and Clark, I gave up on the night. I had failed in my first library-hopping experience. I’ll be back in the big leagues someday though.
It’s not over till the fat lady sings, and at my midterm yesterday I heard no Big Mama Thornton.
E-mail Feder at jfeder@media.ucla.edu.