Some profs are cool about science fiction. Back in the mid-'80s, I'd brought my suitcase with me to college because I planned to slip my physical geography lab assignment under the office door, and sneak away quietly to go catch the Greyhound to Edmonton for the annual Thanksgiving weekend science fiction convention. He was there, though, and caught me in the act. All he said, when he saw me toting a suitcase instead of my usual shopping bag with binder and textbooks, was, "You seem to be carrying somewhat more than usual today...Only once, when a professor announced there would be a test on a certain date, and we already had tickets for a Star Trek convention that day. I asked for the test to be postponed until the next class session. After some good-natured teasing, it was.

So I 'fessed up and told him I wouldn't be in class that afternoon, as I intended to spend Thanksgiving weekend in Edmonton (but didn't tell him another student - one of my roommates - would probably also be skipping class for the same reason). He was okay with that, since I had a solid B+ average, and said to have a good time.
That was the year I had the pleasure of meeting and chatting with Alan Dean Foster.
