“Hey man it’s crazy, don’t come here, the cops are checking IDs in
Around 12:35 pm, as Butler emptied out for one of the last nights of acceptable drinking before finals, two men in semi-police-officer uniforms entered Butler 210 and beelined to the far side of the room, where a few tired souls were peacefully sleeping.
Tablemates made eye contact for the first time to give each other the appropriate “What the absolute fuck” stare as the officers shook awake a girl who had fallen asleep reading, asking (not in their inside voices) to see her CUID. Understandably confused, it took her a minute to fumble out her card. They gruffly woke up the other man sleeping on the squishy chairs too, who had to go across the room to a desk to show them his card.
The officers left immediately after, and Bwog followed to see what they were up to. They surveyed the break-up room/side entrance, then headed up to 5. Bwog took the elevator after theirs to the sixth floor, standing inside the staircase on the fifth, but they were too quick for our rusty old knees, and our nose couldn’t pick up the scent of sprinkled donuts on any floor.
A simple conversation with the main security guard later—after he chatted with the men—revealed: “They don’t want people sleeping in there, and they want to make sure that they’re students. It’s a necessary thing.”
Sleeping Butlerites: Enemy Number 1.
Your friendly neighborhood librarian via Shutterstock