A Plague of Dudes

So today I rode downtown to the Hennepin County Government Center, which, as it turns out, is the building by which I crashed last summer, at which I examined my chin, and at which I picked up my officer escort. It was my first time back.

I stood in line for about 15 minutes to register and take a number, and then read for another 45 or so. When I first arrived, they were calling number 79, and I was assigned number 17 (the numbering starting over after 99), so it wasn't terrible.

I had been sitting for probably close to half an hour when four guys entered the waiting room. They were all tallish, tannish, and were all wearing large polo shirts (striped or solid), oversized cargo khaki shorts, and tennis shoes. Their outfits might as well have been a uniform, for the scrupulosity with which they observed the code; the pack of them together was striking.

My reaction was visceral; I could feel myself cringe as they swaggered to my corner of the room and occupied two seats to my right and two seats across from me. I only got tenser as I heard them discussing* how they weren't going to tell their parents about their speeding tickets.

I realized that soon the city would be overrun with college kids like these, and that I--as an employee of the University and a teaching assistant--would be right in the thick of it. I wondered briefly if I had chosen the wrong profession. Is it possible that I actually don't like college students? Because that might pose a problem.

It's true that I don't like Dudes. They make my skin crawl. I also dislike their female counterpart, sorority girls, especially when they're over-tanned, over-bleached, and show up to my class in shower shoes and baggy sweatpants (or, worse, short-shorts) with slogans embossed across the rear.

Thankfully, these types do not comprise the whole of my classrooms. I also have the artsy kids, the overachievers, the clearly-grad-school-destined, the shy smarties, and even the mysteriously sullen. And, really, I do like the vast majority of my students--especially if they demonstrate that they can think... or at least make me laugh. Even the Dudes do that sometimes.

Oh, and yesterday I got this semester's TA-assignment: Intro. No sections! Woo! Bring it on.

(Another amusing character at the office today was the middle-aged white guy in the too-small canary polo with embroidered logo--buttoned to within one buttonhole of his jowls--with belted khakis and tennis shoes. He was wearing his sunglasses (clipped to his wireframe glasses) inside, and had his thinning hair gel-spiked up. Every time someone would poke a head out the door to call a number that no one answered, he, from his position in line, would helpfully bellow the number down the line and out the doorway. He made me laugh.)

Oh, AND, they canceled my ticket. If the plate falls off again, I'm in trouble... but for the moment I'm back where I started and am out only time (and higher blood pressure), not money. I think bringing in the cell phone picture worked well for me.

*Ellen and I have debated whether the Chicago or Minnesota accent is more irritating; I ventured that there was something ingratiating about the Minnesota accent... but I've decided it's not ingratiating at all in the mouths of Dudes.