Living on a sprawling Ivy League campus that balances newly-designed pristine buildings, brick-laid brutalist designs, and colossal gothic libraries, it is easy to forget we live in the actual town of Princeton, N.J. too.
In fact, a straight shot, two-block walk away from the storied FitzRandolph gates lies one of the greatest microcosms in the town of Princeton: a public library.
While many have never entered the recently renovated three-story building, I have found myself there many times over my first one-and-a-half semesters at Princeton. Whether optimistically checking out classic novels I soon return due to a massive misjudgment in free time or finding a way to break routine and burst the occasionally overwhelming “Orange Bubble,” the Princeton Public Library is a colorful space to study, sift through endless shelves of books, and people-watch.
As I approached the library after a post-RoMa meal, Sakrid coffee in hand, I thought back on some of the classic moments I had experienced at the one-and-only Princeton Public Library. These random moments include an older lady unpromptedly yelling, “SHOUT OUT HARRIET TUBMAN,” with both wired earphones in ear, and a 12-year-old spontaneously going into a griddy-induced shock, shaking his arms wildly while running back and forth across the first floor.
So when I arrived at the library around 1:30 p.m. on a strangely humid and warm Monday, I was ecstatic to see what would happen.
Interior of lower level in the Princeton Public Library.
Gavin McLoughlin / The Daily Princetonian
1:36 p.m.
A kind, older gentleman opened the door for me as I entered the library. Walking inside, I found the modernized, 70s-esque brick building surprisingly packed for a mid-afternoon weekday. People of all ages were scattered throughout. Finding my way to the second floor, I could see an older lady, about 65, doing two puzzles simultaneously, with the multicolored pieces strewn across the wooden table. Glancing across the first floor to one of the many children’s sections, I saw a child break into a griddy.
Griddy Counter: 1
1:45 p.m.
Before I could even get settled into a spot on the second floor, I overheard two high school boys behind me loudly whispering.
“Bro … Emma’s here … downstairs,” one of the guys whispered in a hilariously conspicuous voice.
“Nah … it’s okay. I don’t wanna talk to her,” the other guy responded, while anxiously grabbing and pulling the collar of his T-shirt to his mouth.
“What do you mean, bro … you’re … like in love with her,” the guy stated, not even trying to whisper at this point.
The other guy shook his head, and the pair scrambled out of my sight.
“True love must wait,” I thought to myself.
1:56 p.m.
As the caffeine from my coffee started to kick in and I started to get some work done, I overheard another conversation between two older ladies behind me. As they passed, I heard one say to the other, “I asked her to cut it beneath my shoulders, not above.” I turned my head slightly to see the lady place her hands on her hair, irritatedly gesturing to her friend where her hairdresser should have cut.
2:11 p.m.
From across the floor, I heard an older man’s voice loudly reading out what is obviously a password.
“Zero, eight … zero, eight, … zero, eight,” he repeats over and over before sighing and stating, “No, no, no.”
Letting my curiosity get the best of me, I looped towards him. I trekked through the jungle of metallic bookshelves filled with their vivid “leaves” of cookbooks and travel books. As I got closer, the man, dressed impeccably well in a tan blazer, was on the phone in the supposed “quiet section” of the library, taking a phone call while talking at full volume. I laughed to myself and returned to my spot.
2:24 p.m.
I walked to refill my water bottle. On my way, I passed a pack of giggling middle school girls. “Did you see how Lucas turned around?” one of them remarked to the others through a stifled laugh on the way down the stairs. Hearing this conversation, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a continuation of the teenage soap opera I had stumbled upon less than a half hour before. Will our alpaca haircut hero ever find his requited crush? I guess we’ll never know.
2:37 p.m.
The longer I sat, the more the urge to check out another book I know I don’t have time to finish grew stronger. Taking a small break from my work, I walked back to the first floor and strolled across the classic fiction section. On my way down the stairs, I heard three elementary school kids eagerly clamouring about checking out a book. Listening to their excitement brought back a flood of elementary school memories of public libraries and the unparalleled thrill I once had of checking out a book about Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster. Pulling myself out of an insanely premature spiral about age, I returned to my study spot.
2:53 p.m.
As I left the library, I was again reminded of the importance of understanding that a world outside of problem sets, essays, and 8:30 a.m. lectures exists. While at times being a Princeton student can feel like a heavy burden or an endless climb against piling assignments, having the opportunity to spend time in a community space like the Princeton Public Library and see people of all ages come together is essential for grounding you and giving perspective. Any time these inevitable feelings appear, I implore you to get out of your usual routine of Firestone or Lewis and come to the Princeton Public Library, where you can not only break up the monotony of studying but entertain yourself with the endlessly weird public habits of people.
Gavin McLoughlin, a member of the Class of 2028, is an associate editor for The Prospect. He can be reached at gm9041[at]princeton.edu.
Please send any corrections to corrections[at]dailyprincetonian.com.
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