As I approach, I can see the kids gathering. They’re not kids exactly. They’re all in their twenties if I remember correctly. All upperclassmen who are in their last two years here.
Everyone is standing around in a small group. The single faculty member joining us is sitting on a picnic table with his boyfriend at his side. The staff member from relations is sitting on the bench of the same picnic table, observing.
Then there’s Byndley. As soon as she sees me, she turns to the group of students. “All right. Everyone look here.” Their conversation ends. “Not to treat you like ten-year-olds, but I need to see that you have your passports.” She raises hers in the air. “Raise them up. Let me see them.”
Obediently, the ten students do as they’re told as I come to a stop beside the picnic table. Byndley counts them and then nods. “Very good.” She turns to the picnic table. “You too. Let’s go, Dr. Weaver, Ms. Ito.”
Zarek gives Byndley a bemused look as he pulls his passport from his pocket. His boyfriend, Declan Whitaker, one of our physical trainers in the athletics department, is grinning with mirth. Katai Ito doesn’t comment as she holds hers out for Byndley to see.
I wince with exaggeration when Byndley turns her attention to me. Without instruction, I quickly pull mine out of my backpack. Not a bad idea, since it wasn’t in the pocket I thought I’d put it in.
“Very well,” Byndley says. “I know I’m treating you all like children.” She gives Zarek a smirk. “But LAX isn’t just ten minutes down the road. If you don’t have your passport, you’re stuck at the airport for a week. It’s better that I make sure you have it now than to get there and find you’ve forgotten it.”
“I appreciate it,” Sarabeth, one of the students, says. “I’ve been panicking all morning thinking I’ve forgotten it, even when my hand is right on it inside my pocket.”
“I know that feeling. Quick survey. How many of you travel regularly by plane?” There are three hands in the air. Byndley nods. “Okay, then just a short word of advice. Come here, Wendy. Let me use your backpack as an example.”
Wendy, a redhead with wicked-curly hair, steps forward and pulls her backpack around so it’s still on her shoulder but along her front now. Byndley tugs on the front couple zippers. “Do not put anything valuable or identifying information in any front pocket. That’s the easiest place to reach for someone who is going to steal it.” She turns Wendy slightly and shows them a hidden pocket. “I realize not everyone has a pocket in the back or hidden on the side, but this is the most ideal location. Otherwise, choose the bottom of one of your big pockets for this kind of thing. Also, keep your zippers all the way to one side and not both together at the top of your bag for easy access. Any questions?”
“I’ve been traveling my entire life and have never been told those things. I feel like my parents have put me on display to be robbed,” Samuel says, frowning.
“Don’t ask me why I share all this information now,” Byndley says, nodding. “It’s not because I’m well-versed in safe travel as a form of entertainment. Thank you for being my model, Wendy.”
Wendy smiles and returns to the group.
Do I maybe move my passport out of the small pocket and into the side pocket where I’ve always kept my cash and credit cards when no one is looking? My doing so isn’t missed. Brevan grins, and a couple snicker, even as they’re rearranging their belongings too.
“Last, I know that the list we provided of items to pack and what to leave behind looked a little counterintuitive. For anyone who decided to take a peek at any of the sites we sent to you regarding Iceland, I’m sure you were scoffing when we told you not to worry about winter gear when it’s, on average, in the thirty- to forty-degree range.”
“I thought you wanted us to freeze and become part of the landscape,” Corwin muses.
“Not quite, but don’t push your boundaries.” Samuel flashes her a grin. “When Dr. Keller conceptualized CAP, he knew he wanted to make it accessible to everyone. Not just those who could afford to be a part of it. We can’t choose from a well-qualified pool of candidates if we were only seeking those with large bank accounts. The first thing we did when we began putting this together, as with most things, was to form a budget. Once we had a number in mind, we began hitting up some of our most supportive sponsors to get them on board, explaining why we wanted to pay for our student ambassadors’ trip outright. Then we put it out to the community.”
“I’m going to interrupt for a minute,” I say and get to my feet to join Byndley. “There’s a fine line between creating the perfect safe space here for all of us to thrive in and then unleashing you into the world where it’s not quite as harmonious. We want you to prosper, to find the confidence to be yourself, to find yourvoice, and to receive the best education. When I was young, it didn’t take me long to realize that there were some things about people that those in power wanted to keep down. Whether it be because of the color of your skin, your gender, your sexuality, your creed… all classes that are ironically protected by federal law, mind you. Whatever the case that made you different from what has become the ruling class here in the US, I observed over and over again that our roads were blocked. We didn’t just have to work harder to be successful, but our roads were often blocked unfairly.”
Not a single person surrounding me is doing anything but nodding in agreement. It’s sad that the world is still like that.
“I attended RDU and could see the potential this school had. It was already on its way, but it needed a push. I moved back home after college, but something inside me knew I wanted to be here. I wanted to make RDU what I imagined it could be. So I came back. I began in PR.” Byndley checks her watch and adjusts her weight. I smirk. “I promise this is relevant.”
She gives me a nod, but I can hear her dramatic sigh in my head all the same.
“The first thing I did when I came back to RDU was begin forming community support within Glensdale. It was slow going at first, but when the companies that supported the ‘queer school’ got louder, those who began tofeel uncomfortableleft, and more supportive companies and people moved in. Eventually, Glensdale and its surrounding towns became what they are today. Many, many companies in town are proud sponsors and/or partners of RDU, and so when we began reaching out and explaining what we were doing and the kinds of support we would like to provide—not just monetarily—we had an insurgence of support.”
I nod toward Byndley to continue. She inclines her head. “This stack of luggage here that you’ve all eyed curiously is foryou. Your names are on the handles. We’ve been gifted top-of-the-line cold-weather gear from some of our favorite sponsors, including but not limited to boots, parkas, hoodies, shirts, beanies, and so much more.”
“Now I understand why my shoe size was required in the application,” Sarabeth says, amused while everyone claps and whoops.
“Yeah, I thought that was weird,” Mercy says, laughing.
“Load your suitcase under the bus, grab your bag, and load up. We’re getting ready to pull out.”
Katai and Byndley head to the pile of luggage. They’re softshell bags, but the kind that expand until they’re flat and have pockets up the wazoo. If I’m not mistaken, they expand until flat because the outer layer is also a garment bag accessible from the inside.
When the suitcases are loaded, the students form a line and grab their bags before heading onto the bus. The staff and I are last, and yes, we received bags too, which was far more than we asked for.
“Let’s go, Zarek,” Byndley says. “It’s only a week.”
Zarek and Declan are wrapped around each other, mostly just hugging. Maybe exchanging the occasional word. Zarek glares at Byndley as she gets on the bus following Katai.
