The Smell of Academia

I was moving at speed today, trying desparately to finish some last minute revisions to some comprehensive exams. Instead of requiring me to take the exams over in their entirety, the professor allowed me to redo the individual parts which were "not satisfactory". They were due, however, by 5:00 today. So I sent them off, and now am relaxing in the total muscle-loosening that occurs whenever a project is completed.

The sections needing to be repeated were academic knowledge that some students might consider unneccesary for memorization (as it was on the first exam). The watchwords of today's academics are "do you know where best to go to LOOK for information you don't know?" Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to apply to my history exams.

From the moment I stepped from my car after arriving on campus, I was following a man. Down the stairs, across the street, through the minor quadrangle, past the academic buildings... he was right in front of me. I wouldn't have paid him any attention under the normal course of things, except he was smoking a pipe.

That caught my attention, as few people walk around smoking pipes any more, what with the cigarette companies basically abandoning that long-lasting consumption habit for the more repeatedly costly cigarettes. It's also a more socially unacceptible habit in these days of "subtle" cigarettes with unflavored smoke.

My first thought was, "Oh, a pipe. How unappatizing." But as I followed him around in the trail of his own flavor, I was struck with some memories. Memories of academics turning pages on books, late into the night, and sitting around tables discussing incredibly esoteric matters.

"Is the upcoming merger of the neo-conservative left and the non-binding conservative Greens going to be anything other than a minor disturbance on the journey to full fiscal independence for the Indian Colonies?"

"I'd wager not, though the reiterative nonconformity appertaining to the escalating defenestration may hinder all future prospects until the circumnavigation of the celestial orbits."

Granted, it's still a filthy habit. But seeing a man with graying hair and thickrimmed glasses smoking on a pipe while possibly thinking thoughts that require effusive thinking got me into the academic spirit.

That smell is just something that suggests grandfatherly knowledge and dusty books. I hope we continue to make small quantities as a society so that future generations will know exactly how the flat at 221B Baker Street smells.