If you are ever wondering what the absolute bottom of hell is like, step no farther than (B)ass Library. This tri-level torture chamber has everything: sleep-deprived students, crying teens, those who have brought their entire desktop computers just to play Fortnite, some old people, the occasional free doughnut and self-centered students taking up an entire four-person table. Don’t pretend you’re not a little curious about all the sad, eye-bagged Yalies who look like they’d rather be literally set on fire than trudging down those steps into the dark abyss. Behold: a multilayer, cubicle-filled hell of self-inflicted punishment and internal damnation that you’re doomed to revisit even after you swear it’s too “scene-y” during your first semester of the year. Welcome to Bass.
When you walk into the library, you’ll first find yourself in Bass Cafe. Consider this your purgatory. Here, you’ll find round tables with obnoxious clubs trying to harass you as you’re on your way to study and people sitting there solely looking to be seen “studying” with just a laptop out — they’re probably watching Netflix or copying down the most recent economics problem set. Once you enter the library, you’ll see the first layer of this hell. This level feels slightly less terrible than the other pits because it has the suggestion of sunlight. But don’t be fooled; before you hit the steps down into the lower levels, look to your right and you will see roughly six to 14 people completely knocked out in uncomfortable chairs, each in pretzel-like positions having tried but given up on ever making it back outside.
And then the final layer, where you’ll find Yale’s hottest library. Lined with long tables and students staring at you as you look desperately for a friend, you’ve reached your final destination. Don’t be fooled, no one is actually working. They’re just here for the Snapchat filter or the team social hour. This part of Bass remains silent, except for the odd scream of despair coming from a “study room” or someone who clearly does not understand how to shut the fuck up in a library. Essentially solitary confinement, getting a private, windowless room in the basement of Bass is like the “Hunger Games” (not that you’ll get any work done in them anyway). The group study room reservation system brings out the worst traits in people, even more so than housing draw, and nothing is worse than when it hits the :30 or :00 and someone comes knocking on your door with a snobby voice saying, “Excuse me, I have this room reserved” like they’re about to sacrifice you for the Iron Throne.
At the end of the day, Bass is the last layer of Yale hell. Windows aren’t necessary and any semblance of joy you had is left at the door. Sorry, library staff, but dressing up as an inflatable dinosaur will not incentivize me to enter your hellhole. Bass is synonymous with Dante’s lowest layer of hell: treachery. To enter this place is treachery against yourself.
Lindsay Jost | email@example.com .