Low Steps—Low Beach if ya nasty and 40°48’28.4″N 73°57’43.6″W if you’re a cartographer. Most of all, the hottest place on campus to usher in the weekend (with substances)! But what is it like when you haven’t had a drag or drink?

The soft clink of glass vodka bottles against the granite steps. The passing around of a tequila bottle in a group that you will think about later as breaking the compact. The scuttle of plastic cups capsized by a gust of wind. One cascades down the staircase and gets caught in a snug depression of sagging bricks. A passerby kicks it while walking. It continues journeying around campus.

A girl copies Mandarin characters for her Chinese homework due at midnight. It is 11:43 pm. She only has a few minutes left, but after finishing each row she pauses to absorb the next one. Her friend illuminates the paper with his phone flashlight. When she finishes she rushes to the tent for light. Then she uploads them to CourseWorks. As a reward (?) she reclines on the steps. People step over her as they climb up and meet their friends.

The groups sit in ellipses. For a second you’re reminded of your conic sections questionnaire for Calc III. There’s a flash of anxiety across your eyes. But the questionnaire is due Monday—you’re fine. A few of the groups blast music. Your left ear has the flowing rhythms of hip hop. Your right ear has what you think is jazz. It’s a little overstimulating. Or maybe it’s like that scene from Ratatouille when Remy bites from two different pieces of food and sees colors swirling around him.

A pair of guys sing a drunk duet of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” They were critiquing Biden’s handling of Afghanistan when you first arrived. There are slightly homoerotic undertones. The surrounding groups begin singing as well. A girl comments that she doesn’t know “Bohemian Rhapsody.” A murmur of disbelief reverberates between her friends.

Rolled cigarettes of tobacco, marijuana, and lavender thick the air. The embers from their flames dot the staircase like constellations embroidered in the fabric of the night sky. If you take several steps in any direction and it is noticeably cooler, thinner, and clearer.

An intoxicated person compliments your outfit out of the blue. They have good taste because it is a cute outfit. But then they lean in a little too close when they ask if you’ve completed the Spanish quiz yet. You’re not in their Spanish class. You don’t take Spanish at all, actually. It’s a little awkward. You look towards your friend for a second as a plea to change the subject because it’s gotten a little awkward.

In the distance—beneath the tent—a couple slow dances without music. They stumble as they sway from side to side. They split and one of them grabs a folding chair and decides to toss it. The chair collapses mid-air and clatters against the ground. There is no clear reason why that just occurred. Out of the corner of your eye, someone attempts to straddle Alma’s lap. He gives up because he’s probably not in the rock climbing club. Also, Public Safety was beginning to give him side-eye. By the fountain, a group of girls celebrates their friend’s birthday by playing Christmas music. It is barely autumn.

Once and a while you might make eye contact with another fully lucid person. It’s cinematic and borderline intimate. The surrounding chaos blurs the edge of your vision but there’s clarity in the shared gaze. You know nothing about the other person but you’re both bearing witness to the artful catharsis. Then one of you looks away. It’s over.

The steps eventually thin. The time changes depending on the type of weekend it is, but still, it happens. People attempt to walk off their inebriation and begin the trek of returning to their dorms. Some support their weight on their friends. Others, under the streetlight and smiling, twirl towards the gates. The heat trapped in the stone steps dissipates into the air. Low Steps is now cold, and with that, the last stragglers depart.

Late Night Low via Bwog Archives