A small brunette in a small green tank top and jeans that were much too big for both her… A small brunette in a small green tank top and jeans that were much too big for both her body and state of mind staggered through the door with her male friend following close behind.

He helped her place one foot in front of the other as she wrapped her arms around his blue-and-red plaid button-down shirt, and she eventually plopped herself into a cushioned chair near the computer kiosks.

As she turned to sit down, her pants nearly fell to her knees, giving the rest of the lobby-goers an interesting view, although she didn’t seem to mind – or even seem to notice.

She spoke quietly on her cell phone, her eyes half closed, pointing her chin over at her friend to yell the occasional “What are you doing?” From the way her language slurred together, it sounded like she had actually just made up a new word on the spot.

“Just chill out,” he warned, pumping his hands down a few times as if signaling to a speeding driver on a neighborhood street.

It was the late hour of Friday night, 10 p.m., before it was time to venture out to the Oakland parties. Panther Central’s doors were securely locked, the black night outside was heavily lit by the tall white lights towering in front of the freshmen dorms, and the unruly clattering of clashing voices was loud enough to wake up a 22nd-floor resident.

It was about that time when flocks of freshmen congregated in the center of Towers lobby to plan their next three-hour adventure, but they knew that by the end of the night, they would end up right back where they were standing.

And these particular students were no different.

The green-tanked mess wobbly brought herself to her feet and made a sharp right toward the door. Trying not to run directly into it, she aimlessly wandered behind her friends, disoriented and fired up for their social engagements.

And more than three hours later, more students like her staggered back into the building.

As a horde of rowdy students teetered beside each other, two male students casually strutted into the lobby with one Antoon’s pizza box stacked on top of another. They headed straight for the long rectangular table situated directly in front of the stairway leading to the Marketplace and Eddie’s.

But when a hungry girl sitting in the chair across from the table smiled and forlornly wailed “pizza,” the guys promptly shot her down. The college guys bolted for the security window of Tower A to head up to their rooms, nearly dropping their pizzas, to get away from the potential grub stealer.

Later in the morning, a different scene unraveled.

At 11 p.m., the number of people in the white-tiled gathering place could be counted on one hand.

The noisy breeze of the air conditioning replaced the footsteps of the army of students. The slow kiosk-typing of just one ambitious student temporarily stood in for the drunken wails of high-pitched female voices screaming, “Will you take a picture of me?”

It was difficult to imagine just six hours prior, when students were climbing over the rectangular table like they had mistaken it for a playground, but now it sat empty and alone.

Panther Central was up and running, but just one girl stood at the counter.

Another student pushed his way through the “IN” door, his hands full from his large smoothie and bag of Baked Lays, the sound of the rubber soles of his slippers hitting the tile after each step as he headed for the Tower B security window.

But while the weekends are prime time to see and be seen in Towers lobby, the weekdays are no different.

Monday at noon: The sun was shining through the windows almost as big as the walls, at least a dozen students anxiously waited in line at Panther Central and students flooded Common Grounds as if it were already finals week and there was a limited supply of coffee left in the world.

Not to mention – gasp – the eminent table was no longer deserted from the lack of students roaming around on late weekend mornings.

Only this time, situated directly in front of the silver stairwells that lead to the dining halls, the table wasn’t covered in packs of freshmen decked out in their Friday-night attire.

Just two Lambda Chi Alpha brothers sat, tabling to collect money for cancer research and giving out complementary lollipops.

One student, curious to see what the commotion was about, approached the table but explained that he had no cash on him to donate.

“I see an ATM card in your wallet,” said Pitt senior Chris Kenny. “There’s an ATM right there.”

Kenny extended his left arm, covered by a white Ben Roethlisberger jersey, to motion in the direction of the money-spitting machine.

The political science and communication major says that the fraternity usually tables in the lobby because it’s always swamped with people.

“So many people walk through Towers lobby, getting to class, going up to their dorms,” he said. “It’s probably the busiest place on campus.”

Meanwhile, across the way, another organization set up its own table directly next to Common Grounds in front of the large, wall-covering window.

The only way students wouldn’t have to look at the table is if they deliberately dodged it or refused to take the little fliers that the tablers were passing out.

Hillel Jewish Community Center tables in the lobby three times a week because there is a good flow of freshmen and it’s important for them to get involved, says Pitt junior Nina Rose.

“It’s always busy, especially around lunchtime because of the dining places,” Rose said.

She says the tabling usually turns out to be successful.

“Eh, depends on the day and the mood of the students,” junior Eva Gruenberg chimed in from Rose’s left, but added that the two were feeling optimistic.

Just a few moments later, dozens of students with backpacks and satchels of all different colors and sizes piled through the doors as if they had all been released from class at the exact same time.

It was hard to believe that just nights ago during the weekend, the same crowd of students piled through the same doors.

But instead of backpacks, purses hung on the young women’s shoulders, and the only thing the men had to worry about carrying was each other – or their inebriated female friends.

It was the early hours of Saturday morning, 2 o’clock.

The tall Pitt freshman in his blue-and-red plaid button-down shirt slouched over as he gave the same flirty brunette a piggyback ride into Towers lobby, the place they had been just four hours earlier.

Nearly plummeting into the center pole, he wobbled straight through the “IN” door and searched for a place to rest his feet.

The young man stumbled over his feet as his green-tank-topped passenger stumbled over her words.

“You’re so wasted,” she laughed. “How can you carry me like this?”

She tugged on his shirt to stay on his back, making no attempt to fix her own falling-down jeans that were nearly revealing her rear end.

He plopped her down into the same cushioned chair near the computer kiosks and she immediately whipped out her cell phone, although she never failed to point her chin over at her friend to shout the occasional “What are you doing?”

Except this time, the student just laughed, almost falling out of his own cushioned chair, and yelled, “Just chill out.”