An Urban Ethnography
Liminalities: A Journal of Performance Studies 4.1 (2008)
ISSN 1557-2935
Renee Human
University of Kentucky
Field notes and photos
Familiars: justin and Ed field notes
April 3 , 2007, 2pm
UK to Fayette Mall
“Didn’t I just see you,” I laugh as I get to the bus stop. “Déjà vu,” Justin laughs since we just rode the bus together about two hours before and adds, “Well, that was a waste.” He tells me how his class in Castleton Hall, “one of the big rooms” was barely full. He was so bored, he read his book. We talk of how many hours he is working (30), how many hours in psychology (15) and the pros and cons of night classes (I really dislike teaching my Thursday night class). “They all want to go party, don’t they?” he says. “Yep” I say.
It’s a nice day and several people are at the stop today. Several of us giggle or at least turn as a Nascar-like car speeds by. “what was that?” I say. “A Monte Carlo” says one male student nearby. The small talk continues as several of the guys start talking about cars. The bus pulls up and the front seats are totally packed full. I head for the back. I pull out my notebook and Justin pulls out his book. It’s all become rote and I wonder if it will be time to leave the field soon. I would like to read a paperback on the bus like Justin and think of riding, not writing. Before I dig into marking the bus map, I ask him if he and Lauren (his girlfriend) have plans for the summer. “We’ll go home,” he says, opening his book.
At the next stop, the chef (I’ll call him Ed) gets on. Ed sees me, I smile and wave and he comes to sit with me. “Where are you coming from today?” I ask by way of hello. He tells me of the workshop he conducted with morning – decorating cookies to look like flowers with moms and tots. He pulls a printed sheet out of his attaché and we look at it together as he notes the culinary changes they made at the last minute. The Explorium hadn’t gotten the m&ms so they had resorted to chocolate chips for the center of the flowers. He has his chef whites on (part of what made him so recognizable to me). He has a neatly trimmed beard and looks like Jacque Cousteau did in his late 50s. I ask if he has worked at the coop lately and he says, yes, they just catered a wedding in Frankfort.
Ed’s stop is the one just before Justin’s. We are all smiles and good-byes. Justin, who had turned quickly to his book when Ed entered the picture, gets off next. Only five of us are left as we approach my stop — and my computer at home.