Ah, late August the time of year when every night gets a little colder, when most of the girls on campus start to wear actual clothing, and, oh yes, when the University begins its annual ‘Operation Everglades,’ in which top engineers from all over the world are recruited to turn every square inch of campus into a giant swamp.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;The only thing missing, of course, is a herd of wild alligators to gnaw off the legs of random fraternity members, but we can’t expect perfection, can we?

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;Apparently neither does the University, which may explain this conversation that I overheard the other day between two maintenance ‘professionals’:

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;CUSTODIAN #1: Look Bob, it’s raining outside. Shouldn’t we

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;CUSTODIAN #2: Turn on the sprinklers? Of course. But aren’t we supposed to

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;CUSTODIAN #1: Aim them at the students first? Good call. BWAHAHAHA. *high five*

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;Based solely upon this conversation, I think we can conclude several things: a) custodians really like high fives, and b) it’s a good thing we students didn’t have bit parts as aliens in a certain M. Night Shyamalan movie that featured Mel Gibson as an Aramaic-speaking corn farmer who discovers that mysterious crop circles in his fields are being created by angry Scottish pig herders who are distraught by suddenly being able to read women’s minds.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;I mean, all I’m saying is that if I was a member of a superior alien race that just so happened to be allergic to water but was hellbent on taking over the galaxy, the LAST planet I would ever try to conquer would be one whose surface was 75% covered in water. That’s all.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;Likewise, if I was trying to ensure the survival and growth of every grass blade on University property, I would probably try to aim the sprinklers so that water landed on actual dirt at least three percent of the time.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;But I have no interest in green lawns, and seemingly neither does the University. The maintenance staff’s tireless efforts to keep our vast system of concrete sidewalks ‘alive and well’ through the age-old art of irrigation is certainly admirable, and not in the least bit nutty or half-baked.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;In fact, I’m sure the grounds custodians have an elaborate watering plan designed, complete with complex mathematical concepts such as ‘addition,’ ‘hectacres,’ and the letter Q.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;I also have no doubts that the actual implementation of this plan is highly top secret and probably involves randomly dropping as many sprinklers as possible right next to the busiest intersections on campus, and then turning them on at the exact moment that half the student population is walking to class.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;I can’t be the only person who has been shuffling zombie-style to an 8:30 class, minding his own business and trying to remember not to trip over that one piece of sidewalk right in front of the Business Administration building, when all of the sudden out of nowhere 14 sprinklers rise out of the ground and create an impenetrable wall of water.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;And not only are all the sprinklers furiously watering the same three square inches from all different directions, but sometimes a dozen Nazi soldiers will appear suddenly, and all I have to defend myself with is a leather whip and a sexy fedora.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;Ok, so maybe my life isn’t as close to an Indiana Jones movie as I sometimes fantasize, but the sprinklers are real, and they can be a menace.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;It’s simple: a person heading to class should not have to memorize the intricate timing patterns of a bunch of glorified water spigots and then perform complex acrobatic moves just to avoid getting one’s pants wet. Of course, that presupposes my pants weren’t wet already, which is not always a sure thing.But enough about my unusual habits. To get to the bottom of this, we have to ask why the University is so concerned about having shiny green grass all over the place to the extent that its current students are terrorized daily by sprinklers channeling the renegade spirit of Mike Tyson.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;The answer is elementary: these fall months are the major visit periods for high school seniors trying to make a college decision, and according to a random research study that I may or may not have just made up, ‘Beautiful grass’ is the number two factor (right behind ‘Critical learning environment’ and ‘Hot chicks’) in helping pick a school.

‘#160;’#160;’#160;’#160;Thus we have the University’s new motto (‘Our Grass is Greener ‘ And So Are Our Sidewalks’), a more exciting adventure on the way to and from class, and, of course, an increase in high-fiving custodians. Now, if only we had those alligators ‘

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