Hannah Jones /Winonan

On Wednesday nights, Winona State University student Ryan Eichman has a job to do.

With a black sky visible outside the window above the Smaug stage, he snakes his way through clusters of students lingering at the tables—chatting, studying and gulping down various forms of caffeinated beverages—and turns off the lights.

As the Smaug’s night manager, it is his responsibility to switch off, lock up and shoo away, gently reminding the students 15 minutes before midnight that the building is closing. As soon as the clocks show 12 a.m., they have to either hit the hay or take the party elsewhere.

The Smaug is teeming with activity during the daylight hours. As the main thoroughfare for students crossing campus, eating and meeting with friends, it represents a major traffic nexus during class hours. After school is out, the numbers in the Smaug dwindle with the light. However, a stalwart collection of students lingers long after sunset, bathed in the combined glow of their laptop screens and the electric sign above Coyote Jack’s.

For Eichman, the scene in the Smaug at 11:45 p.m. is predictable. He has been on the job for two years, and has seen countless nights’ worth of students lounging at the tables, half working and half talking. There’s a sort of twilight peace to the Smaug in the late hours of the evening, with its dim lighting and its comparatively quiet atmosphere. However, Eichman hits the first light, and then:

“Chaos,” he said with a weary smile. “Usually a lot of people get upset that we’re kicking them out.”

Eichman has seen plenty of scowls over the course of his career as he’s gone through his switch-flipping routine. That’s probably because, late as it is, many students aren’t ready for bed yet.

Kelly Gardner, another student, stays until closing time in the Smaug about three times a week. Whether she’s studying or talking, she enjoys passing the time in the Smaug rather than in her room.

“Tables, space, people, food, everything is here,” she said. When the lights start going down on Wednesday, she’s not tired at all. “There’s just too much stuff going on to get tired.”

“I could say up another two hours if I had to,” Samantha Pikala, a friend of Gardner’s, said. Pikala remembers a night at the beginning of the semester when she and her friends left the Smaug half past midnight after a particularly entertaining conversation.

“I got right up the next day,” she said.

If it were up to Pikala, the Smaug—particularly the booths—would be open long past midnight. “For sure toward three in the morning,” she said.

There has been some discussion about extending the Smaug hours in the past. In 2007, the subject was brought before student senate. However, with study spaces like the library and Baldwin open until two in the morning, some argued against the utility of keeping the space open longer.

With the moon high in the sky and the night chill set in long before, students make their way out of the Smaug as the lights go down. Some immediately take a seat in the Lower Hyphen or mount the stairs to Baldwin, determined to finish just one more assignment before sleep.

Gardner, Pikala and their friends loitered at the entrance to Kryzsko for 20 minutes after the Smaug closed, their laughter creating puffs of steam in the frigid air, each student still not ready to retire. It was the cold that got the best of them before fatigue ever did, and gradually, they began to separate, leaving the building behind and returning to the residence halls.

Even if Pikala and Gardner still have energy to spare, Eichman looked a little worn down as he ushered out the last of the students and turns off the final lights.

“I’m a student,” he said. “I’m always tired.” He sighed, putting on another small, sleepy smile. “It comes with the job.”

Contact Hannah at [email protected]