Today she arrived too late for staff parking but finally got to see where the sand volleyball courts are after all these years. She really needs to get out of A-200 more. It's lovely over there and she admired the rough hewn beauty of the ad hoc parking lot—really!—especially the mature trees that border the sand lot, the tables and chairs scattered around in the shade. Bucolic. Collegiate.
Classes went well, lost students were redirected, students without classes were comforted, even the the A-200 copy machine was cooperative. The interior of A-203 has been painted a brilliant white that makes everyone inside what is called "the fishbowl" look like models in a GAP ad. Really.
On the way back to the parking lot Rebel Girl noticed students at those tables under the trees. One lone student was working already on his computer. The other table was occupied by a couple, a young man and woman, sitting close together. Even from a distance, it was clear they were a couple, sitting apart but leaning close.
As she approached she noticed the couple was being addressed by a police officer in a police car who had pulled up curbside as close as he could get. He was shouting something that sounded like the couple was violating "Title 9" and could get thrown out of school. "Teachers don't like you doing that," he said (or something like that). Once again he repeated that they were violating Title 9 and that they might get thrown out—and then drove off.
It didn't make any sense. When she got closer she asked the couple what happened.
"I think he was stoned," the young man answered. The young woman smiled. Rebel Girl gently disagreed.
"Did he say you were violating Title 9?" Rebel Girl asked. They nodded. "Do you know what that is?" They shook their heads. "It's about equity and access for women in education, equal funding of programs, especially in sports." They laughed. "I doubt you were violating Title 9."
"He didn't seem to want me to touch her," the young man said, nodding toward the young woman.
Rebel Girl surmised that there had been some public display of affection going on but certainly not Title 9 infringement.
None of it made any sense. But it was the end of a long hot day, the first day of classes. Maybe it was some kind of strange college prank on the part of the police officer. The couple went back to each other's eyes and Rebel Girl left them there. Ah, youth.
One last note: Rebel Girl stopped at Manassero Farms farm stand on the way off campus to pick up dinner—so much to choose from! She chose what she needed—watermelon, squash, corn, broccoli—and then discovered that they give 20% off to staff, faculty and students. Bring your ID. It's a deal.