The hotel staff seemed genuine when they said it was Salvador Dali's
wife, Gala. Why should they joke about it? It would be a matter of
national pride, would it not? So, although at that age, I had no idea
about Gala and her history, even I had heard of Salvador Dali.
 
We had at least an hour before the gig, so I asked the concièrge what
room she was in and headed up to see her. After all, she had engaged
me in conversation, for whatever reason, so I doubted she'd be
bothered by a visit from a 27 year-old rock musician. I suppose today,
her whereabouts would be shrouded in secrecy, but at that time I was
told where she was and that she was in.
 
The Ritz elevator looked like it could give out any time and sounded
like it was about to. I swear it took 10 minutes to go up three
floors. I knocked on her door and she answered as if she were waiting
for me (or someone else?) and without waiting to be invited in, I just
told her where we were appearing in a few hours and said she should
come and be sure ask for me in the dressing room. She said she would,
and I was already imagining how I'd be telling people about this night
for years. I'm writing this 34 years later, Gala is dead, she died
only 8 years after the events depicted here. I know now that she was
born in 1894, Gala was 80 years old when we met!
 
Part Three