It’s at least an hour too early in the morning and my calculus professor is explaining three-dimensional functions in a calming, rhythmic voice. The classroom becomes a Panera, and my professor tells me I’ll need to go to Boston Market to get the mac and cheese kids meal I want. I begrudgingly eat the vastly inferior Panera food as my professor’s face looms in front of me.
“Benenati?”
I open my eyes and muddle my way out of the dream state. My classmates are giggling and my professor is standing over me with a wolfish grin on his face. He wants me to identify the shape described by the function on the board. I say it’s a circle, but it was actually a hyperbolic paraboloid. Not my best performance, but I take the loss and settle back into my seat, my eyes drooping shut again.
I like to say that while the humble sleep at night in their beds, the wise sleep whenever and wherever they want. This would make me a very wise man. And I’m not the only one. College campuses across the globe have been shaken by an epidemic of napping. The average student walking down McCormick may sport swanky Sperrys and a chipper quarter-zip, but behind the clothes are baggy eyes, smushed hairdos and brains in a fuzzy state.
Yet hibernation was not always the law of the land. I remember the days when napping was something only toddlers were supposed to do. In that age of ignorance, the habitual napper was ridiculed, harassed with slurs like “lazy” and “narcoleptic.”
During these days, I mocked and criticized others for what I mistakenly declared “addictions” to napping. The chief target of this abuse was my good friend Anthony, a man whose tendency to nod off in the middle of conversations would render him inaccessible for hours on end. A joke about Anthony's bear-like hibernations was easy and guaranteed laughs out of my other friends.
This past weekend, the tables turned. While texting Anthony, I found myself distracted by the fluffy pillows and the far-too-comfortable mattress topper sitting on my bed. I awoke what felt like five minutes later to find I had left Anthony hanging for almost three hours. When I told him the reason for my weak response game, his smugness was almost palpable.
Everything I do and every decision I make revolves around the act of napping. I recently got a buzz-cut to remove the possibility of bedhead from the equation. The sweaters and quarter-zips in my closet have been replaced with jackets, which are easier to use as blankets. I now own a baseball cap, which I can tap down Indiana Jones-style at any time to obscure light.
It’s midnight somewhere, which means it’s bedtime for me — whether my professor likes it or not. I’ll sign out by paraphrasing the immortal words of Sugarhill Gang: “Now what you heard is not a test, I’m napping to the beat and me, the groove, and my friends are gonna try to go to sleep.”
John’s column runs biweekly Fridays. He can be reached at j.benenati@cavalierdaily.com.
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