Occasionally, It Still Happens

"Miss! Miss!!! Do you know where Halton Arena is?"

I look around the parking lot. I'm the only one around.

"Ummm, where?" I respond sounding like the geeky professor I am who never leaves her office. I also don't want the man (someone's father) to get much closer and realize there is no way in hell I'm a "Miss."

"They are playing volleyball there. Here are the directions," he showed me a printout basically taking them to UNCC.

"Ummmm, I think it's that big building right there. The old gym."

"Thanks!" and he walks away.

I look at what I'm wearing: an I-don't-give-a-shit outfit consiting of a stained dusty rose ribbed turtleneck, a ribbed green cardigan, faded low cut jeans and $10 bad weather boots from Target. Clearly, it is not my youthful beauty that lead him to call me "Miss." It is because the general public cannot imagine a professor being this poorly dressed.