What really happens on the UTSA campus at night? 

Dropping in for a look around 2 AM, I braced myself for something like a ghost town. Driving on to campus at 1:58, I dropped by Chisholm to pick up my cohort, Meg Edyvean. 

Waiting for her in the parking lot, I glimpsed a group of friends sharing a cigarette break just outside the side door, laughing and carrying on as though it were any time of day.  The scene stood as a stark reminder that UTSA is a genuine college campus, with late-teens and early-twenties milling about with no regard for the fully adult world. 

While driving down Sam Barshop Road, we caught sight of a handful of bikers periodically coming from the direction of Lot 5.  Seeing no better option, we followed them to their source.

The air was calm but for a few fleeting cries from distance housing developments. 

Spanning the Recreation and Wellness Center and the Convocation Center, parking lot 8 was, surprisingly, not empty, though was far from the full, brimming capacity it reaches on so many weekday mornings. 

Leaving the car and heading towards campus, more bikes, chained to a rack at the end of the University Center, intimated a greater presence of the student body. 

In its October newsletter, campus police advised students to “Keep your bicycle locked at all times, and use a strong lock.”  Not wanting to fall under the category of “suspicious people,” Meg and I moved on.

 A cat scurried out of the light as we strolled up the giant stairs to the academic heart of campus. Sparsely distributed pairs and small groups of students were visible at distance intervals. 

Composed of communication freshman Alex Luft and education freshman Megan Moldonado, were heading away from the JPL.

“Well, she just finished studying and I just finished a paper,” says Luft.  “We were going to pull an all-night, but...” he was cut off by his companion, Moldonado, as she added
“But I’ve decided to go home and sleep. So he’s walking me home.”

Justice Snoddy, an undeclared freshman, seemed to in a similar predicament, saying “I have a crapload of studying to do.”  Snoddy was also leaving the JPL in hopes of getting a few hours of sleep beforeclasses resumed in the morning. 

Passing the woman still on her cellphone, we entered the JPL on the second floor.  The change in atmosphere was stifling; the soft sounds and cool night wind of night faded between the two walls of doors leading into the library.  The experience was like being in an airlock, but trapped on one side by darkness and sound and on the other by blinding light and sickening silence. 

Inside were tables littered with texts, notebooks, laptops and sleeping students.  Meg and I decided to leave this sterile world to its own devices, accepting that someone might have something more important to do than talk to a reporter and his weirdo friend. 

We did, however, catch yet another  student  intending to study at the JPL, which is open 24-hours a day.  Eddy Jaimes, a psychology major on his way into the library, explained the hurry in his step with a single word; “Midterms.”

We left the and ascended the bridge between UC Phases II and III.  Overlooking the edge of campus proper, we counted a smattering of wild animals (no, not frat boys) wandering about campus.  We looked on as feral cats darted about in the darkness, a family of raccoons left its hiding place under the pavement and a fox strolled along the front of the Ski Loft, with its eerie grey fur shifting in the lamp light. 

Walking between the Rec and Student Health Services, we came across an upturned hunk of concrete with the words, “Fire Lane” set into its form, the block apparently having been pulled from the ground some time before. 

From where we stood, this single item seemed to be the only thing out of place, or even alive on campus.  But as we took this notion, we were well aware that a mass of students were still sit studying in the bowels of the JPL, desperately cramming or simply seeking a peaceful retreat from the ravages of dorm life.

Should it ever sleep, I wish UTSA a goodnight and sweet dreams.