My first roommate in college was a beauty queen. She was Pennsylvania's Jr. Miss in 1982 and she hailed from Allentown, PA. Someday I will tell the whole sordid story of our very long month in a small dormitory room together—her story of me is probably almost as horrible as my story of her, no two girls were more mismatched to share 45 square feet and a walk-in closet together. Her side of the room was covered with photographs, most notably a photo of her, in one of her myriad of duties as Pennsyvania's Jr. Miss, presenting the Key to Allentown to Billy Joel for his hit song which immortalized the coal mining town's economic woes, simply called "Allentown". I adored the song, until my shacking up with the beauty queen—to this day, if I hear a Billy Joel song, her crowned being haunts me. I don't know what twinkled and sparkled most in that photo, her crown or Joel's capped teeth.
But, I hold out the small hope that someday, I will be presented with the Key to San Jose. Preferably by a beauty queen. This would make my life somehow, complete. Really, it might be all I ask, at least, for now, my good readers of San Jose.