The First Day

It's always a little strange the first day on a dig, especially when you don't know anyone from previous experience. You arrive at the hotel the night before, often very late after driving a good distance, getting lost, not having a room reserved through an administrative foul up, whatever, and skillfully throw your stuff about the hotel room until it resembles home. The next morning's breakfast is awkward as you head to the lobby...you clearly recognize the group of archaeologists there (they're the dirty ones, covered in dust and mud from the day before), but you don't know them. So you awkwardly insert yourself into the group, finding out who is in charge, exchanging history, experience, figuring out who you've worked with in common. Eventually you'll come across someone you both know, or a shared experience and you're in. But it's fairly nerve-wracking, at least for me. Generally speaking we're not the most socially graceful group, archaeologists were at the bottom of the social ladder back in high school when that sort of thing mattered. For some of us it means we're overbearing and obnoxious, others are elitists, some (like me) are a bit on the socially anxious side, a shy guy.

But never fear, we're united in our nerd-dom, our geeky passions, and often love of the same 80s cartoons...terrible music...video games...and of course old garbage we've found in the ground. So before long we merge into an oversexed, loud, terribly inappropriate, social circle. We use our field voice indoors (along with field stories: usually about sex, drinking, dead baby jokes, sex with dead baby jokes, or drinking while telling sex with dead baby jokes) standing out in the calm small towns against the polite, proper, "civilized" locals. The stares we get: priceless.