Black leather typically says one thing—trouble with a capital ""t"", sometimes in a good way. But in the case of the overstuffed chairs of the Chazen Museum library, it reads more like divinely comfortable and magically plush. However, under all the surface Trouble certainly lies. Even the biggest, toughest looking of characters melt within its captivity and transform into napping babies.
At a nearby table from behind a textbook, I watch in amazement as those around me take seats in the leather abyss in attempts to study for their exam later that afternoon. Within four minutes, they are asleep. Writing an outline for a paper, falls asleep. Reading the Cardinal, smiles in satisfaction, then falls asleep.
So for good reason, I was first hesitant to sit down in one of those bad boys after viewing the inevitable slumber and impossibility of being productive that would result. And even if these individuals aren't yet snoring, their comfort levels have taken them to heights of complete self-unawareness.
One guy who had clearly put some time in his rough demeanor that morning, looked as peaceful as a lamb as he curled up next to the armrest. I wasn't sure whether to throw something at him or gently stroke his face.
On another occasion, two young men sitting in the chairs simultaneously de-shoed themselves and put their feet on the coffee table in front of them. As their toesies were only inches apart, I envisioned the two playing footsy across the table, and giggling like little girls during a tea party—stuffed animal guests and all. Unfortunately, my fantasy failed to occur.
The Chazen library allows absolutely no liquids or foods within its walls, but deep slumber is generally endorsed. Tube sock exposure is completely welcome, but if they see a single Triscuit, you'll be outta there so fast, your head will spin. The Chazen doesn't play.
Finally, I decided to experience the phenomenon of the leather chair for myself, and sat down. Immediately, I found my little nook and made myself comfortable. Yet I couldn't help but feel like a warrior princess strong enough to resist the mighty waves of exhaustion that had already drowned my neighbors. Like flies, they dropped around me.
Even a guy I had class with in twenty minutes quietly napped across from me with our course book open in his lap. I wanted to tap him before leaving but resisted out of fear of seeming creepy.
""I've been watching you sleep for the past half hour, and I know you have Comm Arts with me now"" might not give the best impression, so I let him be. I wonder if he made it to lecture after all...
As time passed, my arrogance grew as I fell into those stylish La-Z Boys with ease and confidence. Surely I wouldn't fall under the same spell as my fellow sitters because I was Julia, Warrior Princess and Resistor of Accidental Snoozing.
I scuffed a little at the nearby girl with the closed eyes and wide-open mouth. That is until not long after, something horrible happened—my highlighter fell out of my hand and to the floor where it remained for a good ten minutes. I had fallen asleep. Apparently, weakness is contagious.
Want to tell Julia the secrets of battling the Chazen's black leather chairs? Reveal them to her at shiplett@wisc.edu.
