University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

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p many chances am I gonna get to meet Graham Nash? Can I borrow your rhinestone earrings? ' ' 27

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The Graham Nash Opening Kathy and I quickly throw open our sleeping bags and sit down under the window of the info booth to wait for the passes to be distributed. By 8:30 the line is huge, and the lounge is stuffed with students hoping to get invitations. At ten a.m., as the first prized passes are being handed out. Marc Vitale steps from the pages of Gentle- men ' s Quarterly clad in a perfectly tailored navy-blue, European-cut suit, and scurries through the Benson foyer. Paul is walking next to him, struggling to keep pace with the small man ' s brisk walk. As they pass, I hear Vitale say, Absolutely not! He is a collector! A Collector! At 10:15, invitation in hand, and swathed in weary jubilation, I head back to Campisi for some sleep. As I crawl into bed, Nash and I revive our nearly aborted conversation. His eyes are blue. Mike has also been having difficulties obtaining an invitation. But the Wednes- day night before the Opening, he comes into my room, flops down on my sofa, closes his eyes, and heaves a massive sigh. I ' m in, he says, and looks at me, a mischievous smile of victory crawling over his face. Dianne is filming it for her T.V. class. I ' m gonna be her cameraman. I extend my hand to him, and we shake. The afternoon of the Opening, I run into Dianne in the Bronco Corral. She is dressed to the teeth — jewelry, lipstick, the works. I approach her to ask the reason, but never get the chance. I met him! she exclaims, as she rips into a bag of Cheetos. Where? I ask, immediately compre- hending who him is. She hurriedly swallows a mouthful of Coke. Press conference this afternoon, she blurts. Really nice. — And cute! Her eyes widen and she nods for added emphasis. Really cute. At 4:30 that afternoon, I head over to my room and begin getting ready for the Opening. Dave won ' t be over to pick me up until 6:30, but I figure I ' ll need at least that ' much time to shampoo, shower, curl, press, dress, paint and primp. Walking down the hall, I can hear at least four different stereos blasting CSN . , I open my door and find Kathy drying her hair, singing along to a song from CSN : find a way to reach her, make yourself a fool. . .do it with a little class, disregard the rules. . . Hi! she yells over the music and dryer. Take a look at my new dress! She gestures to the window, where a daringly low-cut pale-blue formal hangs, shimmering wildly. I tell her it ' s beauti- ful, silently wondering what has happened to her usually conservative taste in clothes. Christ, Kath, it must ' ve cost you an arm and a leg. She winces at the comment. Yeah, she says, but I figure, how {continued on next page) 26

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The Graham Nash Opening many chances am I gonna get to meet Graham Nash? Can I borrow your rhinestone earrings? Sure, I ' ve got another pair I yell as I grab my stuff and head for the shower, knowing full well that this person standing in my room is not my roommate, who considers rhinestones to be the absolute heiaht of tackiness. It ' s 6:25. I ' m standing in front of the mirror, wearing nylons, sandals and a slip. My hair, however, is perfect. Kath is on the sofa, applying a fourth coat of nail polish as Nash and friends sing forgive me if my fantasies might seem a little shopworn, I ' m sure you ' ve heard it all before. . . Kath stops polishing, and peeks out the window. Ummm, you might want to speed it up a bit, she says quite calmly, as I stand, toothbrush in hand, white foam drooling from my mouth. Dave ' s on his way. This provokes a burst of adrenalin unequaled in recent history as Kath flies across the room, snatches my dress from the closet, throws it at me, and races to the lounge to hold Dave at bay for a few minutes. I zip my dress, yank open my drawer, and stand staring in utter helplessness at a multi-colored assort- ment of eyeshadows. What color of eyeshadow does one wear to discuss rare daguerrotypes with a famous rock star? I certainly don ' t know. Fifteen minutes later I emerge from my room, wearing heavy eyeliner but no eyeshadow, and we set off for dinner and The Big Event. And the cannibals are waiting on the edge To eat the meat that they can smell -G. Nash ' ' Mutiny ' ' When we finally arrive at the gallery, things are different from what I ' ve anticipated. To begin with, people have actually shown up on time, the man at the door is seriously checking passes. Lydia Modi Vitale ' s dream has finally come true: by requesting formal attire, she ' s managed to get the students to dress more or less semi-formally. A large number of avant-garde, arty types are wandering around, their creative fashions clashing violently with the attempted elegance of the students. I spot Sean filming students for Dianne ' s show and wonder where Mike is. My question is immediately answered as I enter the gallery and am seized by a 28