Yuka had moved into a new dorm for the summer, and on Tuesday I helped show her an easier way to get home that wouldn't take her as far out of the way as she was used to travelling. While we were walking along the road a white Toyota Tercel came from the opposite direction with its horn blaring at us. Inside were two guys, and the driver happened to be the instructor from my class, who then leaned over and shouted out the window:
« Paul! Hey man! I just wanted to say 'thank you' for being in my class and making it a fun experience. You're fucking awesome! I can tell you took the final seriously; you're the only one that got a perfect score on the exam. Congratulations, man, you deserved it! »
And yes, my instructor was dressed like a surfer dude when this conversation took place. After shouting out my score loud enough for everyone assembled by the university bookstore to hear he then proceeded to drive off into the distance. I think he was more excited about it being summer than anyone else I've seen yet.
I caught up with the assistant instructor later in the day, who said that my grade was the highest they've ever seen for that class. He then introduced me to the woman he had been talking to before he saw me walking by, who also happens to teach the Medical Anthropology class I'll be taking in the fall. Apparently I'm becoming a known personage among the non-archaeology faculty here at the university. All six of them. (There are more than that, but the school is primarily dedicated to archaeology, so they don't get much attention) Interesting.