Actually my first time at the campus, but not my first time indirectly dealing with it. Fall 1992, I'd moved from Virginia to Eugene to attend the University of Oregon. I was in line to get a mailbox assignment at Hamilton Hall's common area, and this guy looked at me, stared at me, then walked over to me and asked "Are you a Lincolnite?" He meant "from Lincoln High in Portland." I looked a little generic when younger. Enough to look like a lot of people.
A woman in her 70s who attended Lincoln as a kid -- and who was part of the last freshman class to go to the earlier Lincoln High that was on SW Broadway in downtown -- and her husband came over, as did one other Manpower temp (who recognized me! And as a Graphic Arts Center person, not as a Lincolnite!). Raking, weed-pulling, shoveling, watering all got done by us four, all around a rose garden plot that needed some tending. I let myself imagine the weeds I was uprooting were screaming little death screams, because sometimes I'm evil.
We had brief drizzle, not enough to be a nuisance so it was no big deal. We made progress, though the woman supervising things came over to where I was and said "That's too big a job" and added that it'd get tackled another day. I was slightly relieved that it wasn't a problem of my technique, or (for instance) she thought I was working too slow; I can get insecure about work. It got to almost-raining (but just a sprinkle) after the job was over, and I didn't mind walking downtown getting spritzed. I just hoped I wasn't offensively smelly.
Though being smelly and sweaty? Probably a good help when getting past standing people in a bus so you can get off of it.
I've been home -- in time to watch the Timbers play a little later -- and I've showered, where I found stems from flowers and bushes in my hair. Not flowers in my hair, because I'm not an experienced hippie. The work clothes are part of my laundry now, too, getting the dirt and grime off of them.
One more barely related thing; I already liked Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson back in his World Wrestling Entertainment days in the late 1990s. I liked him more when I read in an interview, maybe 10 years ago, that he laundered his own wrestling tights, because "no one else should be exposed to that stench and funk." At the time I thought, hey, he has a kid: wouldn't that be a great threat of punishment? "You behave or Daddy will have you wash his wrestling clothes!"